


Beacon Hills Retreat -- No Tresspassing

by Samarium



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Action, Alpha Peter, Alternate Universe - Cults, Brainwashing, Everyone x Everyone - Freeform, F/M, Gerard is a Darach, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Suicide, Mind Control, Multi, Plot, Plot elements and characters from seasons 1-3, Skeevy sexual dynamics, Violence, blink and you'll miss non-con, dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samarium/pseuds/Samarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills Retreat -- At first glance it seems to be some sort of hippy, spiritual commune, nestled deep in the forest near Trinity National Park.   It's full of happy people, crystals, and other New Age crap.   </p><p>But beneath the surface lies something much darker.  An invitation to join is hard to refuse, leaving is impossible.  Because Gerard Argent (retired hunter, darach) needs souls to keep himself strong and safe.  He's burned far too many bridges in the past, made far too many enemies.  He's not above pretending to be a guru and luring people from across country with promises of wellness and peace of mind.   He's not above using magic, brainwashing, and the strength of his own pack of tamed werewolves to keep them there.</p><p>At first Stiles' goal is simple:  Get himself and his dad <i>out</i>, but as he grows closer to the other teens in his community, he realizes he has a much bigger task.  With the help of Scott and Lydia, he must destroy Gerard's main object of power, and free all the people of Beacon Hills, before their souls are all destroyed.  </p><p>A hard task to do, when his every move is being watched and he can't even trust his own mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note on pairings: On screen there is Scott/Stiles, Isaac/Stiles, Erica/Stiles and Jackson/Stiles
> 
> In addition there are many, many minor pairings in this, too many to list, but most of them are blink and you'll miss it, one sided, stubbornly platonic or going on purely in the background or in the past. The main characters are a bunch of randy teens in an extremely sexually permissive culture, with a bunch of morally dubious adults hanging around egging them on. A lot of the pairings are rather skeevy and consent is very dubious what with all the mind control and kidnapping and general cultiness. Actually there's just a lot of plain old skeeviness period.
> 
> Despite this, there's no Sterek, because it simply didn't work with the plot. Go figure.
> 
> Note on Suicide: Stiles' father is struggling with suicidal feelings.

“Retreat, Stiles, retreat,” said John.“And listen, just because I lost my faith when your mom d-died—“  

He choked off and Stiles choked as well. Just that fast, the silence grew loud in the car, and that familiar ache reappeared in Stiles's chest. Even though he desperately didn’t want to, Stiles could hear the ragged hitch in his father’s breathing. He closed the binder so he wouldn’t have to see the words swimming and turned his head and concentrated really hard on the scenery.  

Stiles didn’t want to see his dad crying, because that would get him going, too, and he was tired of crying.Just soul-deep tired of it.He was ready to start living again.Ready to think of something other than what happened.  

But even after eight months, the horrific circumstances of Stiles’s mother’s death were still too close to the surface.  

Stiles couldn’t even look at a hamburger without being nauseated — and hamburger was everywhere in their town.He hated that because it used to be one of his favorite foods. Burgers, meatloaf, casseroles, Claudia Stilinski was a master at making the humble ground meat into culinary art.  

Well, she was until she got caught in the processing equipment and became one with the beef.

No one exactly knew the circumstances. Stiles’s dad had gone to the plant to investigate the accident and for once Stiles was thankful he hadn’t gone with him.No closure was worth the sheer horror on his dad’s face when he staggered home.He’d heard second hand that it had taken several days to clean Claudia out of all the equipment and that was waaaay more information than he ever needed to know.Stiles had a vicious hope that they’d shut the place down, just because… oh my god, gross, and also because, holy fuck, this was allowed to happen at all, never mind to his mom. But of course not.Shut down the plant and you’d shut down Merepolk, Kansas. Even his dad just shook his head at the notion.The processing plant only cordoned off that particular line.For three days.And then it was back to business as usual.

Stiles was certain that the plant had bought off the safety inspectors.Seriously, how else could that happen? He also knew that if his dad weren’t the town sheriff, the company probably wouldn’t have moved so fast to offer a settlement, or been so generous with the amount of money they awarded out. They probably feared that John would bring in the feds.They needn’t have worried.The only thing that Stiles’ dad did was stop going to church and fall into a bottle of whiskey. As soon as the first settlement check was deposited into the bank, he’d packed up the house and they’d started this road trip.

“I need this,” said John after a few minutes.His voice sounded rough.“I can’t live like this any more, Stiles.I need some place where I can find some peace.Beacon Hills was set up as a refuge where people can go to heal and recover from the world.No TV, no internet, no crime.Just healthy outdoor activities, arts, gardening, community.Acres of forest.They even have a school.It’s paradise.”

School but no internet or TV didn’t sound like paradise to Stiles, but his dad was falling apart here, so he bit his tongue.

“How much did you pay for it?”He asked at last.

“Sixty thousand,” said John. 

Stiles gasped.“That’s — that’s, Christ dad, did you hand over our entire bank account?”

“We have two million dollars coming over the next twenty years,” said John dryly.“We can afford this.The money I paid goes for our food, lodging, all the facilities, your schooling.Everything.We won’t have to even think about a budget until we leave.It’s all taken care of for as long as we need to be there.”

“And how long will that be,” Stiles had thought maybe this was a couple of weeks while his Dad pulled himself together and figured out where they wanted to go next, but the word “school” was ominous.

“However long it takes,” said John. “Listen, kiddo, I really need this. I just can’t take the pressure anymore.I’ve got to find some goddamn meaning in life again.Yeah, it’s kinda fruity and hippie, but give it a chance before you decide you hate it. For me?”He looked over at Stiles with such a haunted expression that Stiles swallowed his worries and objections.

“Okay, dad.Yeah.I can do the hippie commune thing.”

“Thanks,” John smiled and turned back to the road.

* * *

They got off of 1-5 and followed a narrow badly paved road through miles of open farmland, and then through even more miles of forest. They’d been traveling now for five days, from Kansas, through Colorado, Wyoming, Utah and Nevada, staying at cheap hotels, and stopping at whatever quirky roadside attractions that Stiles could google up on his phone. John put up with the side quests only because Stiles simply couldn’t sit still watching monotonous scenery for hours.He’d have been perfectly content to push through to their destination as fast as possible, but for Stiles driving became torture after the first two hours.Adderal didn’t help.By the time they’d finally crossed into the California border, they were both convinced never to take another road trip again.

 Eventually they wound their way deep into Trinity National Forest, past a number of smaller, blink and you miss them towns.Stiles took over driving so that John could hunt down their exit on a map he was given.Despite his dad’s efforts they missed the turn off twice because it looked so much like a private driveway rather than a proper road.The only indication that there was a town somewhere down it was a small sign that said “Beacon Hills Retreat, Private, No Trespassing,” that had been tacked up on a pole. The first three hundred feet of road was gravel, then it mysteriously switched back to pavement again and ran more or less smoothly for another ten miles, with nothing to see on either side but dense trees.

They rounded a corner into town just as the sun was starting to go down.They passed rows of greenhouses first, and some fields that had been cultivated with vegetables.Then they reached one of several clusters of houses.The houses looked pretty normal at first glance, but then Stiles noticed all the solar panels and the way the windows were built and he got a nerdy little thrill in his gut when he realized how eco-friendly everything was.

“Look at that, dad,” he said, pointing.“They are using wind and solar energy.Those roofs are designed to reflect heat away and look how thick those walls are, that should help keep things warm.How much snow do they get here?”

“Maybe an inch or so a year.It doesn’t get below freezing that often.”

“Is that all?”Stiles was a bit disappointed.He liked snow.

“Well,farther up in the hills and you get more,” said John.“They might have skiing around here, we can ask about come winter.”

Come winter?Were they staying that long?It was only September!

“Stop here,” said John, pointing to a large, somewhat ostentatious wooden lodge, with a steeply pitched shake roof and two massive tree trunks acting as pillarsflanking the double front doors.

There was no parking lot that Stiles could see, so he pulled the Jeep and trailer partially off the road onto the grass.Almost immediately two people emerged from the lodge and jogged up to them, grinning away.Stiles turned off the engine, then was a startled when a slim, tall, clean-cut man tried to open his door for him.  

Stiles unlocked the door and let himself out, looking suspiciously at the big grin on the man’s face.There was something not totally wholesome about it.Stiles’ spidey sense registered an agenda.

“Hi, there,” said the strange man, “You must be Stiles.”

Stiles found himself shaking the man’s hand, even though he didn’t really want to.It was very calloused and hard, which struck Stiles as strange.Though he looked like a newscaster, this guy clearly was someone who did a lot of manual labor of some sort. “And you are?” Stiles's prompted.

“Stiles, be polite,” said John heaving his stiff body out of the car and joining them on the street. “Hi.I’m John Stilinski.You were expecting us.”He thrust his hand out and the man gladly shook it.

“Chris Argent.I’m in charge of the welcoming committee. And yes, we’ve been waiting.Everyone’s excited to see you both. Stiles, if you leave me the keys, I’ll have Scott move the car to the barn.”

The other person stepped forward.Scott was shorter and a lot younger than Chris Argent — a teenager, with a mop of black hair, an infectious smile, and oddly perfect skin, Stiles noted somewhat enviously. He also stretched out a hand and Stiles shook it as well, before realizing Scott was expecting the keys to the car rather than a handshake.Somewhat sheepishly, Stiles handed them to him. A moment later the boy jumped into the car and drove it away.

Stiles looked somewhat mournfully as the Jeep with its trailer disappeared around the corner.“Where’s he taking our stuff?”

“Don’t worry,” said Chris, flashing his winsome teeth.“He and the other kids will take it by your house and unload it.Then they’ll stow it in the barn with the other vehicles. As you might have noticed, we don’t use cars that often, so most of them end up being stored until someone needs to make a run into Redding.”

“How do you get around,” asked Stiles.

“We walk, some people have bikes.Beacon Hills isn’t so large that you can’t get from one end to the other in a few minutes stroll.And there’s really no hurry. We are pretty laid back here, Stiles.”

He lead them up into the building. Stiles noticed a white phone propped up under a little shelter, near the entrance.It didn’t appear to have a dial.How the heck does that work, he wondered. 

 Apparently Chris noticed him looking.“We have our own phone system here,” he said.“Cell phones don’t work — we don’t have a tower anywhere near by.So we have the white emergency phones scattered through out town. You’ll never be farther than 300 feet from one.Just lift them up and you’ll be patched directly through to our dispatcher, 24 hours a day.They’ll get you the help you need.”

“What if you just want to call your friends?” asked Stiles.

“Why call when you can walk over and talk face to face?” asked Chris.Then he smiled indulgently, “Or you can just ask our dispatcher to ring them up.We don’t believe in letting technology dehumanize us, Stiles. So much of the world is full of barriers — instead of fully enjoying each other’s companies, we block ourselves off behind computers screens and text messages and passive entertainment.In the world out there, people hardly interact with each other — they Facebook instead of meet.But that’s such a lonely way to live, don’t you think, Stiles?Isn’t it much better to see your friends’ expressions, hear their intonation, look at their body language.Isn’t it better to be able to reach out and touch the people you are closest to, instead of holding onto a piece of plastic and glass and trying to use photographs to approximate intimacy?”

To punctuate his words Chris reached out and pulled him in to a hug.Stiles just froze, not knowing how to react to being suddenly engulfed by a complete stranger.John just laughed.

“It’s true,” said John.“We don’t touch or hug and we hardly even look at each other any more.We’re always looking at machines.”

_But, I like machines…_ Stiles thought. Chris let him go, but the sense of trepidation only grew deeper. 

“Well, here you will be able to get away from the machines.We aren’t primitive, but we don’t believe in letting the gadgets rule our lives, either.”

Chris opened the door of the lodge and ushered them through a lush looking lobby.Everything was clean and new looking, from the darkly stained wood walls to the plush carpeting.They turned down into a short wide hall. At the end, Chris knocked twice on an oversized wooden door.“My father, Gerard, is our founder.He wants to say hi before I show you to your new home.”

Before he could say more, the door opened up and they were waved inside.

Gerard turned out to look nothing like Chris. He was short, balding, and white haired.Where Chris was sleek and toothy, Gerard was dour, sharp-eyed, and craggy.Stiles didn’t get any kind of cuddly grandfather feeling off of him at all.When Gerard smiled at John and Stiles, it seemed almost forced, as though he had to remember how to do it.

“Come in, come in,Chris, get these two some tea.It’s been a long drive.”Chris turned on his heel and immediately left.Poof.Gerard shook hands perfunctorily with each of them, then quickly retreated behind an absolutely enormous wooden desk.He had some paper work piled to the side, which he flipped briefly through.

“We just need a couple of signatures from you, John, before we can roll out the formal welcome wagon.”He shoved a small stack in front of his father.“It’s mostly liability.We have our own doctor here, but we need your permission for him to treat you.” Stiles watched his dad flip through the sheets, not taking nearly the time he should to read them before signing.Gerard just nodded, a thin lipped smile on his face.

Stiles leaned forward, “What’s this,” he said pulling one of the sheets from the stack.It had his name on it.

“Permission to do a physical,” said Gerard smoothly, though from the sharp way he stared, Stiles could tell he didn’t like the fact that Stiles had interrupted the signing process. “We do a lot of physical activities here.As part of the community, you’ll be expected to help out with community projects. You’ll also spend a lot of time at school.We need to know if you have any illnesses, allergies, or health problems that need to be accommodated.”Gerard gave him one of those fake smiles again.“You look very healthy.I rather doubt that anything will turn up that you have to worry about.”

But John was looking a little worried.“I have a heart condition,” he admitted.“Stress.I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine,” said Gerard.“We aren’t going to send you away because you have a weak heart or high blood pressure. We just ask that you take the medicine your doctor proscribes.We are over an hour by road from the nearest hospital.”

John breathed out a sigh of relief and signed the sheet.

“Actually, we have people who have all kinds of health problems here.That’s one of the reasons they come here. To get better. We had one kid with epilepsy, another with asthma.Since coming here, both of their conditions have improved to the point that neither need medicine.”

“Well, if you can get Stiles off his ADHD medicine, that will be great,” said John, dryly.

Gerard grinned a natural grin this time.Stiles jerked back at the sheer predatory quality of it.“Heh, I’ll talk to Peter about him.He could always use a new wolf in his pack.”

“Wolf?” asked Stiles.

Gerard sized him up.“It’s kind of a club for some of our younger people,” said Gerard.“Peter Hale runs it.You’ll like him.They do a lot of hiking and sports.The girl with the epilepsy and the boy with the asthma are both part of it.I think you met one of them — Scott?”

“Yeah, he took our car,” said Stiles.

“Scott’s a good boy. Been with us from the start. I’ll see if he can come by and help you get settled, Stiles.There’s nothing like having a friend to soothe over all those scary, new-place feelings.”

Stiles felt distinctly patronized, but seeing his dad’s look of warning, he bit his tongue.

Chris Argent turned up with the tea. Stiles sipped his.It tasted grassy and weird.This whole place was weird.Scary new place was right.

* * *

By the time all the paperwork was done and Chris Argent had walked them to the house they’d be living in, Scott and a thin dark haired woman were sitting on the front steps waiting for them. Chris introduced the woman as Scott’s mother, Melissa. The three of them all smiled emptily at each other and then Chris waved good bye and headed off to some other task he needed to do.Mother and son remained behind, smiling expectantly at John and Stiles.

Stiles felt distinctly “passed off.” Ever since they arrived, he and his dad had had someone right there with them.Even when Stiles had asked to go to the bathroom back at the lodge, Chris had escorted him for the short trip down the hall.For a place that pretended to be open and friendly, it was awfully untrusting.Normally that would have ramped up Stiles's curiosity to the breaking point, but right now, between the exhausting road trip and the boring paperwork, all he really wanted was a little time alone with his dad. That didn’t look like that was in the works.

John didn’t seem to be having any problem with the constant attention.While Stiles was looking through their new home, he hung back to chat, which was not like him at all. When Stiles came back down stairs again he was being positively _chummy_ with these total strangers.

 “Smile, Stiles,” John hissed.“They are being friendly.”

“They are being nosy,” Stiles hissed back.He noticed that Scott’s eyes sharpened at that, even though he should have been too far away to hear. Scott noticed him looking and the smile returned to his face.“Can’t you send them away?” Stiles whined.“Say we’re tired.”

“Of course not,” said John, chuckling.“I’ve invited them to dinner.”

“Actually,” said Melissa, “I’ll be making it for you.I figure the two of you are tired enough from all the travel.Though, John, if you wanted to help me in the kitchen, I wouldn’t mind.” Her eyes crinkled up with a pleasant glint.

John smiled back at her in a way that Stiles didn’t like at all.Wait.What? Were they flirting?Stiles frowned furiously.Oh hell no!No one flirts with his dad!No.Too soon.Wrong! Wrong!

 “You’ll have to excuse my dad!” he said suddenly and loudly.“He’s still grieving over my mom’s _very recent_ death.So some subjects might be a little too close and upsetting.”

Scott’s eyes shifted from his mother to John to Stiles.His nostrils flared for a second.

 John just looked exasperated.“You’ll have to forgive my _son_ ,” he said back. “He’s had a long, long trip and he’s tired and I’ve never taught him manners.”He glared.

Melissa just nodded.“Relax,” she said.“I’m trained in grief counseling.I’m also a nurse. I know about what happened to your mom, Stiles, and I promise I’ll be very careful not to upset you father.Why don’t you and Scott go unpack in your room.

Stiles stewed for about two seconds, then gave in under the expectant pressure from his father.

Scott put a warm hand on his shoulder and tugged. “It’s this way.”

They climbed the steps up to the second floor.His new room was large and came already furnished with a desk and a bed. Stiles’ stuff sat in labeled boxes in the middle of a geometric patterned area rug. On the walls were various framed affirmative posters, full of rainbows and open hands, and saying things like “Believe in yourself” and “Friendship is as close as a touch.”  

Stiles frowned suspiciously at them.“So.I see the brainwashing phase has begun.”

“Dude,” said Scott, opening one of the boxes.“Relax.We aren’t going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, my dad is emotionally vulnerable and lonely and he just got a whole _lot_ of money and next thing I know I’m moving across county to join a cult.I’m pretty sure I watched a very important iCarly about this.”

Scott cocked his head as if surprised that Stiles could possibly have reservations.“It’s not that bad here.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Stiles didn’t even try to disguise the skepticism.

Scotts smile fled.“Listen,” he said softly, but firmly.“If you are trying to drive me away, it’s not going to work.I’m here for you, whether you think you want me or not. I’ve been there, too, you know.I was suspicious of Gerard and his motivations.But, see this scar on my face?”He pointed to a well healed nick under his left eye.“That’s from the knife my dad tried to kill me with when I was twelve. My mom’s got a lot more scars.When we came here, we had nothing.No money.We barely had clothes.But Gerard took us in anyway, so it’s not the money, Stiles.It’s need. My dad can’t touch us here.Ever.You wouldn’t be here if Gerard didn’t think this place could help you recover.”

He said it with such earnestness that Stiles felt shitty.Okay, maybe, just maybe this place wasn’t a huge scam.Maybe he was being a huge wet blanket and this place was just a well meaning new age-y retreat.  

“I’m sorry.I’ve just been kind of on edge.I’m not used to having so many new people in my face — not that you are in my face,” though actually Scott rather _was_ in Stiles’ face.“It’s just, what I’m trying to say is that I’m an unpopular kid and I have no social skills.”

Scott laughed.“You like video games?”

Stiles eyes widened.“Do I, _yes!_ ”

“So do I, why don’t we play some after dinner.”

“Wait, we are allowed to play video games?” asked Stiles.

“Sure,” said Scott, smiling brilliantly.“We know how to have fun.”

“But — no TV, no internet? How?”

“You’ll see.”Scott threw an arm over Stiles's shoulder and hugged him close. Stiles stiffened momentarily, but then gave into it. It actually felt kind of good to be liked.

* * *

Supper was good. Healthy. A bit plain.Stiles suspected it was organic.It wasn’t anything like his mom would make but then the idea of Melissa being anything like his mom was a place he just didn’t want to go.Nope. 

At least she and his dad weren’t _overtly_ flirting with each other anymore.Though he prickled at the thought that this place might seduce his dad with something as tawdry as female companionship.  

Stiles didn’t have to worry about her opening up wounds either.Melissa and Scott deftly talked around the safe edges of their painful past, asking about John’s job and Stiles’ friends, but not touching on the accident or the settlement.It only got a bit teary once.

“Everyone goes to church there,” John admitted dryly.“Everyone. Me and Stiles, too.But after …I couldn’t walk into that place knowing — I can’t believe that it was God’s design to take my wife like that.I can take that it was an accident, but I can’t take a God who will stand by and only take credit for when good things happen and never bear responsibility when it goes bad.So I stopped going.And it was amazing how fast Stiles and I became _personae non gratae_ when I mentioned atheism.If I hadn’t quit, I’d have been fired next election, for sure.”

“Well we won’t think less of you if you don’t go to church,” said Melissa.“Though we do have a chapel and a Pastor who does a small service on Sundays for those that want to attend.Most of us choose to just go to the wellness seminars.It’s not about God, or the unknowable, it’s about concrete things we can do to make ourselves better people.Gerard holds them every day in the main building.”

“Is that mandatory?” asked Stiles.Daily “wellness seminars”.Might as well call them daily brain cleansing.Yeah this place was sounding better and better.Scott seemed to notice his tension and reached out a hand to hold his arm.His brown eyes seemed absurdly concerned.

“Well,” said Melissa, “You won’t get that much out of this place if you don’t attend, and it’s a great place to actually meet friends and make plans for the day with them.It’s a big part of our community experience.But if you need to do something else urgently, we’ll understand.”

Scott gave him that vacuous true-believer smile. “It’s really cool, you go and you feel good about yourself.Gerard discusses some problem that the community might be suffering through and ways to make it better.”

“So Gerard is the charismatic leader,” said Stiles.“He doesn’t seem that charismatic.”

“You haven’t seen him give a talk,” said Scott.“He’s pretty… persuasive.But in a good way,” Scott said hastily.

For a second Stiles saw a little flicker of something in Scotts eyes. A sharpness that made his eyes seem brighter.Stiles was no lie detector, but it seemed to him that maybe Scott wasn’t quite as much of a pom-pom waving cheerleader for Gerard as he was pretending to be. Which seemed a bit odd, because Stiles figured that Scott and Melissa were here because they were so far into the fold that they could withstand outside ideas.

“Mom,” said Scott, “I’d like to take Stiles over to the rec room.Allison and some of the others are going to be there.”

Melissa beamed.“What a great idea!I’ll stay here with John and clean up and help him unpack.”Stiles was instantly suspicious of her motives.He couldn’t leave his dad alone!

“You know, I’m rather tired —“

“That’s not true,” said Scott. 

“What?” said Stiles.“How could you know?”

“I could smell it if you were tired,” said Scott, as though that were a completely normal thing to say.“Come on.We don’t get new people that often.The others were really excited when they found out that there was going to be another teen coming. If you don’t come and see them now, they’ll probably be showing up all evening to say hi, and you won’t get much sleep anyway.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

And so Stiles followed Scott outside and down the narrow paved road towards the center of Beacon Hills, leaving his dad behind in the dubious clutches of Scott’s Mom.Scott was kind of a mystery.He was absurdly nice to Stiles, despite Stiles doing his utmost to be unlikable. At the same time, he was oddly slippery.It was hard for Stiles to put his finger on it, but there was something just not quite normal about Scott, and not in just the brainwashed-member-of-a-cult way. More like in a this guy has hidden superpowers kind of way.Because Scott seemed to _know_ things that he really shouldn’t.And yet… and yet… he was so damn friendly it was hard to be a dick to him.

When Stiles finally called him out on his pleasantness, Scott shrugged and said, “You seem nice enough to me.I think you’re funny.”Stiles who had been trying to convince people that he was funny _for years_ simply melted at his words.He might have even swooned a bit.Abruptly he decided not to question Scott’s friendliness.

Scott lead them around the back of the lodge to a sprawling two story building.There was a tennis court and a basketball court, and a large field to one side with what looked like soccer goals set up at either end. “You place soccer?” he asked, hopefully.

“Lacrosse actually.It’s a little bit like a cross between football and field hockey only sticks have nets at the end and we throw the ball from player to player.”

“Is it a contact sport?” asked Stiles.His single memory of playing field hockey involved having his shins battered black and blue by flailing sticks.If they were tossing the ball maybe it was a bit less painful.

“Oh yeah, lots of contact,” said Scott as though that were the best thing ever.“We’ll teach you how to play.”He clapped Stiles shoulder and opened up a door in the side of the building.

Inside they walked down stairs to a dimly lit basement. It was definitely a rec room.Three teens were hanging around a pool table, two others were playing fussball.Two girls were on a seedy looking couch knitting.With Scott’s build up, Stiles fully expected them all to come leaping over to greet him.Instead they just stopped what theywere doing and stared at him, as though he’d maybe walked into the wrong place or grew a second head.So much for the welcome wagon.  

Well, I don’t want to be here either, he thought, glaring back at them.

 He looked around.In addition to pool and fussball, there was an old CRT television on a rolling cart pressed up against a back wall.Hooked up to it was an ancient Nintendo 64 game console and a first generation Wii.On the shelf next to the consoles was a box of game cartridges and jewel cases.Most of the games were sports or racing related except for a few E rated games like Mario and Tetris.So much for Halo.He was a fool to have gotten his hopes up.

“You poor, poor people,” he said, shaking his head sadly at the crappy selection.

He turned around to find himself face to face with a clean cut, handsome teen, with a chiseled chin and large muscles filling out out his shirt.“Are you actually pitying us?” he asked in a voice that reeked hostility.“Nerd?”

Stiles crossed his arms.“Yeah, have you even seen what a game from this century looks like?”

Scott frowned.“The wii is only a couple years old,”he said to absolutely nobody listening.

“Video games are for losers, why would I care about them?” asked the hostile teen, looking him up and down.“You look like you’d break if I tackled you.”

Nice.Stiles was quite aware of his own physique, thank you. Okay, yes, he was perhaps not as gifted in the muscle department as … well, actually as _any_ of the others in this room.Including the girls.Whoa.Except that one.His eye caught on a reddish haired girl who looked distinctly feminine in a frilly blouse and short skirt.Her arms looked nicely slim and girly.As did the rest of her.  

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Listen, Stiles or whatever your name is,” said the hostile teen.“We have a hierarchy around here, and you are at the bottom. So you don’t flounce in here and then look down your nose at us.Not unless you want things to be painful for you.”

Stiles backed away.Yikes.Someone had clearly been missing their daily “wellness seminars”.

Scott put a hand on the douche’s arm, his face set far more dangerously that Stiles would have believed possible.“And you remember your place in it, too, Jackson.Stiles is with me.”

Jackson and Scott locked eyes.For just a tiny fraction of a second Stiles thought that Scott’s eyes glowed a kind of amber.But it was obviously just a trick of the dim lighting.Jackson suddenly turned his head away and looked at the floor off to one side.He then pulled away and walked back to the fussball table, putting his back pointedly to Stiles.

Okay, what the hell was that?

“You’ll have to forgive him,” said Scott softly in Stiles ear.“He was used to being really popular back at his old school. Beacon Hills is a bit of a come down for him.”

“I can hear you,” said Jackson dropping the ball onto the fussball table.

The two girls got up from the couch.“You know what’s really sad is how long it’s been since I had a decent mani-pedi.” The reddish haired one offered up a hand for shaking.“I’m Lydia.And I for one welcome some news of the outside world.Please tell me you know something about fall fashions this year.I don’t suppose you have any magazines or newspapers tucked into your boxes?At this point I’d kill for a Tiger Beat.”

Stiles grimaced sheepishly and shook his head.“I’m sorry. I think maybe bright colors are in?”

Lydia sighed.“Well, that’s better than nothing.”She patted his arm sadly.“It’s just as well I don’t know, I guess.Victoria’s idea of shopping is Target.No offense, Allison.”

The dark haired girl, Allison, shrugged weakly.“It’s not like we have anyone to impress up here.”She offered her hand to Stiles as well.“Hi.I hope we aren’t making a terrible impression.”  

She looked so incredibly adorable that Stiles forgave Jackson just so he could smile at her warmly and say,“Not at all.”

Before Stiles could get his hopes too far up, Scott put an arm comfortably around Allison in a way that practically shouted “mine”. Stiles backed off waving his hands a little in a gesture of surrender.He wasn’t going to piss off the one dude who’d been friendly to him.

“Let me introduce the rest,”Scott said.And he did. The other fussball player was called Danny.His dad had made a killing as a trader on Wall Street both before _and_ after the crash.Apparently he’d had some kind of epiphany a year and a half ago, quit his job and came here to try find his soul again.Danny seemed friendly enough and Stiles decided he liked him.

The three at the pool table were Isaac, Boyd and Erica.Scott didn’t have a chance to tell their family histories because as soon as they were introduced they were _all_ over Stiles.Circling him.Erica grinned at Stiles like she might like to eat him. She didn’t help that impression by calling him “fresh meat.” Isaac and Boyd were more speculative and reserved.They all shook his hand, and for good measure he was pretty sure that both Isaac and Erica sniffed his hair.

“Ha,” said Stiles ducking away from Isaac’s nose.“I don’t suppose you’d be part of this ‘wolf pack’ I’ve been hearing about.Because that was rather … wolfy.”

Scott frowned deeply.He and Allison shared a look.“Who told you about the wolf pack?”

“The old guy.Gerard.He said something about me joining a club for kids called a wolf pack.”

Scotts face cleared up.“Oh, yeah?Oh, that’s great!”

Allison looked a little less happy.“I was kinda hoping he’d end up with the Hunters,” she pouted.

“Hunters?” asked Stiles.

“There are three factions here,” said Lydia.“Wolves, Hunters, and Helpers.Allison’s with the Hunters, Danny and I are with the Helpers. The rest of these guys are Wolves.Allison’s just sad to be the only Hunter in our age group, but if Gerard says you go with the Wolves, that’s where you go.”

“Factions? Factions of what?”

“I think we are getting a little ahead of ourselves, guys,” said Scott in that dangerous voice.“Let him have a chance to settle in first before we dump all of our internal politics on him.”

Stiles shook his head.“Actually, I’m totally good with politics.Go ahead and dump.”He wanted to know what he was facing.

“Nah, dude,” said Danny.“It’s probably best not to be too eager.You’ll find out soon enough, trust me.It’s not like you are going anywhere.”Danny said that with such exhausted resignation that Stiles felt thrill of terror go through his spine.

“Okay, no,” he said, backing away from the throng.“You should all probably know that — secrecy and me?—we don’t get along too well.If I don’t find out what’s going on, I pry.I’m a first class pryer.Curiosity is my middle name. So let’s just save everyone the annoyance and tell me what the deal is here.Why is Danny so sad and Jackson so angry.Why is everyone else so weird.” He breathed in deep and asked the really important question.“Should I be getting my dad out of here?”

They all stood silently for a moment, exchanging knowing looks, then they all went pale and stared fixedly past Stiles.

Stiles felt a presence before he saw the person standing behind him.He turned around to look slightly down into the eyes of a man in his mid thirties.The expression on his face was of mildly curious surprise,but there was something about his posture that screamed _danger, run away._ “Has my pack been mistreating you?” he asked.

“Uh…” said Stiles.“No, sir.”

“Peter,” said Scott, sheepishly. “I was just introducing Stiles around.”

“You should have brought him by me first,” said Peter mildly, though Scott reacted like it was a harsh rebuke.“Hi, Stiles.Glad to see you and your dad made it.Try not to be too put off by my pack. I try to teach them manners but sometimes they are a bit rough around new commers.I’m pretty sure you’ll come to like them all in time.”

“Maybe,” said Stiles, feeling defiant.“I’m not sure we are going to be here that much longer.”

Peter bent his head to the side, as though perplexed.“What makes you think that, Stiles?Surely my pack hasn’t been that rude?”He scanned the room and now all of the teens looked scared and turned their heads towards the floor.

Stiles tensed. “Stop that!”

Peter regarded Stiles again.“Stop what?”

“That thing you are doing — can’t you see that they are scared of you?” Stiles stepped back.“Why are they scared of you?Aren’t you supposed to be their club leader or something.”

Peter lifted his chin and seemed to size Stiles up differently.“That bothers you, doesn’t it, Stiles?The idea that they might be intimidated by me?”He clicked this tongue.“I sense a strong moral center in you.You are brave and you have an instinctive need to take care of others.You detest bullying.”Though Stiles thought he was out of arm’s reach somehow Peter managed to catch his wrist and pull it up as though to examine his hand.Stiles felt suddenly very trapped.“Those are all very laudible traits, Stiles.But I think you read the situation wrong.My pack respect me, that’s why they hate to see it when I disapprove of what they’ve done.They aren’t lowering their heads because they are afraid, they are lowering their heads because they are ashamed.They are worried that they’ve scared you and made you feel unwelcome.”

Stiles looked and he noticed that Scott and Boyd were hastily nodding their heads.

“Have they made you feel unwelcome?” Peter asked in a soft, patient way.

Stiles could feel the teens’ attention on him like laser beams. He knew he couldn’t let them down.“No,” he said hastily.“Of course not.They’ve been really awesome.”He felt everyone in the room relax.

Peter let his wrist go.“Excellent.Let’s hear no more about you wanting to leave, then. Scott, I’m going to borrow Stiles for a few minutes.I’ll bring him right back, don’t worry.”

Scott nodded. 

Peter walked towards the door to the stairwell.“Come along,” he said when Stiles hesitated.“Gerard wants to see you.”

 _Shit.In trouble with the big boss already,_ thought Stiles.

* * *

Peter lead Stiles back across the dewy grass to the lodge.It was getting pretty late by now. Stiles took out his phone to check the time and was surprised to find that it was past nine p.m.Shouldn’t the town have rolled up for the night by now?

“Actually,” he said to Peter.“Do you think this could wait for tomorrow?I’ve had a long day and, well, it’s past my bed time.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” Peter said. His eyes seemed to catch on the phone.“That won’t do you much good out here.We don’t have any service.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Stiles, putting the phone away.“Just checking the time, it’s awfully late.”

Peter laughed. “You are the first teen I’ve heard asking for an early bed time.Well, after Gerard sees you, you can ask Scott to take you home.”And with that Stiles found himself out of excuses not to follow him the rest of the way to Gerard’s office.

There were two people just leaving as they arrived: a pretty, tough looking woman about thirty, who gave Stiles one of those predatory looks he’d come to expect from the townspeople, and a tall, dark hunk of a man who looked thoroughly miserable.The man’s nostrils flared a little and his eyes locked on to Stiles as though he could see right through to his thoughts. Stiles stared back at him and gave him what he hoped was a polite nod.Jesus Christ, those muscles.You could bounce a quarter offhis… everything.This guy made Jackson look small.

Peter nodded at the two and said, “Kate, Derek, welcome back.Good trip?”

“Success!” said Kate, grinning gleefully and raising her fist.“We won’t be having _any_ trouble again from the Kimballs.Never, ever, ever.” She then winked.

Derek ignored the conversation in favor of glaring at Stiles, his jaw tightening in disgust. What the hell was up with that? Because Stiles was sure he wasn’t doing anything offensive. Hell, he didn’t even want to be here in this hallway.Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek had taken exception to his face, or if he was just in such a disagreeable mood that anyone would have earned that ugly look.Either way, Stiles decided to put Derek alongside Jackson in the “douchebags to avoid” category.  

Kate seemed to notice Derek’s expression and wrapped a possessive arm around his elbow.“Hey, new kid, don’t mind him.Leaving town always makes him grumpy-wumpy.”She followed up the baby talk by tapping Derek’s stubbly chin with a long red fingernail.

Derek twitched and looked at the wall with shame.Stiles revised his assessment.Forget Derek, Kate was the real scary person here.No dude that buff would put up with such a high level of condescension unless she had some truly major dirt on him.  

Speaking of which, Stiles noticed that Derek’s dark shirt and black jeans were actually ground in with dirt while Kate’s clothes seemed pristine.Which meant that she had Derek doing her dirty work, literally.Stiles might be no Sherlock Holmes, but he was pretty sure the clues added up to Kate being both a douchette of the supremest order and also someone terrifyingly far up the local food chain.Do. Not. Engage.

Jackson had mentioned a hierarchy and, boy, Stiles totally believed him. The question was, how did these people _enforce_ that hierarchy?Was there like a cornfield someplace full of the bodies of those who rocked the boat too hard?Was that where the dirt on Derek’s clothes came from?Stiles shuddered as a chill of absolute horror ran down his back.Whatever was going on here must be pretty nasty if Derek was just standing there and taking this humiliation.

Derek’s nostrils flared again, and this time just a trace of a nasty smile followed it.

“Stiles, come on in here, son,” came a cold, rough voice, interrupting his thoughts.

Stiles thankfully left the mystery that was Kate and Derek and entered Gerard’s office.The old man was sitting behind his huge desk, face set in deep frown lines.He was holding something loosely in his hand.  

When Stiles came closer he saw that it was some sort of polished rock about the size of a hen’s egg.Gerard rolled it back and forth between his palm and the desktop in an almost absentminded way. As he did the semi-transparent stone seemed to gleam with hidden colors and shapes in a way that utterly fascinated Stiles.

“So, I hear that you want to leave us,” said Gerard.“We didn’t live up to your expectations, did we?”

Boy news travelled fast in this town.Stiles jumped, his attention back on Gerard.How had the man known? He hadn’t seen Scott or any of the others reporting in — was the place maybe bugged or something?Gerard’s expression looked hard and the only sound in the room was the dull, but oddly satisfying noise the smoothly polished stone made as it rolled. 

 Without willing it at all, Stiles found himself in defiant mode.Which was precisely the opposite mode he wanted to be in, because it was also stupid-foot-in-your-mouth mode, and not keeping-one’s-cards-to-oneself mode. “I’m not convinced this place is a good fit for me and my dad.” 

Gerard’s hand grasped the stone tightly.His eyes seemed to darken. 

 “Sir,” Stiles added belatedly, as if that would soften the old man up.

To Stiles complete surprise Gerard’s face suddenly burst into a smile. Okay, not a nice smile, but at least a step up from that “I’m going to kill you” scowl he’d been wearing a moment earlier. It was enough to give Stiles a flicker of hope.

 “Call me Gerard, son,” he said, leaning back and chuckling. “I really don’t know what we’ve done to make you think you wouldn’t fit in. But I assure you that you will fit in perfectly.”He resumed rolling the stone again, back and forth across the desk.“Tell me, what’s made you unhappy?Maybe I can ease your mind.Is it because you are in a new place, full of strange new people?”

“Well, actually, it’s more like being miles away from anywhere with no way to leave or call out,” said Stiles and had to fight putting his fist in his mouth.He had not wanted to say that.

“And I can see how our self-imposed isolation might also seem frightening.But I think if you give us a chance, you’ll find being apart from the world isn’t as awful as you think.It can actually be reassuring.Safe.Womb like.”Gerard stopped rocking the crystal.He lifted it up with his fingertips and seemed to admire it.Then he turned to Stiles and fixed him with a stare.“Tell me, what do you think of Beacon Hills.”

“I think it’s a compound and this is a cult,” Stiles blurted.Jesus Christ, shut up, he told himself.Why was he suddenly all Mr. Truthful? 

“Is that so,” said Gerard, thoughtfully.“You know what I think it is?”

“No, sir.”

“Home. And that’s what I want you to think of it as, too, son. Because this is your home now, and we are your family.You should be honored we chose you to join us.”

For the first time Stiles got a sense of Gerard’s charisma, because those words seemed to slither right through his ears into his brain and wrap themselves around his limbic system.He felt a shaky thrill of pleasure and awe.This was a great man, and when he chose to do something, it was for a great purpose.That he’d deigned to even talk to Stiles was a great boon.And wow, he wanted Stiles and his dad to stay.How cool was that?

“The world out there is a cruel, bad place, full of dangers,” said Gerard, his voice resonating around the room.“Full of untrustworthy people.People who are careless with other people’s lives.Fickle.You know this is true.You and your father were abandoned by your friends and neighbors in a time of your greatest need.You were made outcasts, distrusted, hated, because you threatened the towns biggest employer.They took everything you had and they gave you nothing in return.”

True.True. After his mom died what few friends Stiles had seemed to shy away from him.Their laughter died when he neared, as though somehow Stiles was now tainted with grief and would infect them if he came too close.

“That won’t happen here. You’ll always be cared for, Stiles.You and your father are _important_ to us.You’ll never want for friendship or love.You’ll find a purpose and connection. You don’t need the outside world. You just need a place to heal from your hurts.We can do that for you.Trust us.”

Stiles found himself nodding. He did need to heal. He was so, _so_ tired of hurting and worrying and being mad. Getting away from the world to some place new where he could start fresh sounded like an awesome idea.And Scott did seem friendly enough.And Allison.Maybe Danny, too.And the others, well, they were weird, but hey so was he.And his dad seemed to like this place.It really wasn’t so bad.

“So you aren’t going to talk about how you want to leave, are you, Stiles?” asked Gerard, patiently, like a kindly teacher to a student.

“No-o,” he said softly.“No, it’s okay here.”

“That’s right,” said Gerard, grinning. “It _is_ okay here.And your dad needs to know you are okay here.He needs this place for his mental health, and you don’t want to be spoiling this for him just because you miss your TV and video games and your old friends.”

Stiles swallowed and nodded.This place was the definition of safe.Calm, unhurried.Nothing that would remind his dad of his mom or all the misery Merepolk had given them during the investigation.It was exactly what his dad needed.It was rather selfish to put Halo above that.Stiles felt tears of shame in the corners of his eyes and he looked away much as Scott had when Peter reprimanded him.

“Now, now,” said Gerard softly.“I hope that cleared things up for you.You go and play with Scott and the others.I’ll see you tomorrow at the morning seminar.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Stiles, and he meant it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the night went quickly.   Peter escorted him back to the rec room, and he’d spent several hours playing with people there, for once completely content and happy to be where he was.  He didn’t even once think of cults or any of his worries.  He had no idea why he’d been so put off by the kids of Beacon Hills.  They were awesome.  Even Jackson’s brusque manner seemed more amusing than annoying.  Then in the middle of losing a game of fussball to Erica there came a strange chiming bell, and just like that everyone stopped what they were doing.  Scott turned off the wii and Lydia racked up the pool balls.

Scott had lead him back home, which was a good thing because Stiles would have probably gotten turned around and lost in the woods if he hadn’t.  Everything seemed rather hazy.  Stiles was happy and comfortable but exhausted.  He vaguely recalled laughing with Scott while he brushed his teeth.  Then he fell into his bed and into the soundest sleep he’d had in weeks.

 

* * *

 

A bell ringing woke him the next morning.  He rolled over and opened his eyes blearily to take in the room.  Part of his mind registered a strange movement from someplace close by, and that’s what brought him from sleepy to full awake.  He rolled over onto his stomach and looked down at Scott lying in a sleeping bag next to his bed.

“Good morning,” said Scott, stretching.   “Did you sleep well?”

“Dude?” said Stiles, taking in the sleeping bag on the floor.   “Did you just spend the night in my room?”

Scott laughed.  “Of course I did.  You invited me, remember?”

“I did?” asked Stiles.  He vaguely remembered not wanting Scott to leave but he didn’t remember asking him to stay.

“Yeah, you totally did,” said Scott.  “It’s okay, tomorrow you can spend the night in my room, if you like.  But right now, we gotta get up.   There’s just time to get dressed and eat before Seminar.  Go take your shower.  I’ll wake your dad.”

“Wake my dad?” asked Stiles.   He yawned.  What time was it?  He hadn’t set up a clock, but it felt early and he really wanted to roll over and get another hour in.

Scott laughed.  “Yeah.  This is what you two are here for!   He won’t want to miss this.”  He then ducked out of the room and Stiles heard him knocking on the door down the hall.

While Scott was away, Stiles got tiredly up and went to search for his phone.  He needed to plug it in and juice it back up before it died and he lost use of it as a watch.   He tried the pockets of his discarded jeans first, but it wasn’t there.  He looked next in the desk, even though he didn’t remember putting it there.  The drawers were empty. Maybe the bathroom — nope.  By this time he could hear Scott and his dad talking in the hall about breakfast.  Stiles went back to his jeans again to see if he’d some how missed it, but no, it wasn’t there at all.

Scott ducked his head back in.  “Still haven’t dressed?” he asked. “You probably want to before people start showing up.”

“Showing up?” asked Stiles.  “What here?  They are having the seminar here?”

“No silly.  To make breakfast.  I don’t know who it will be.  Probably Victoria and Chris — Allison’s parents.  I hope so.”

“Why can’t we make our own breakfast?” asked Stiles.

“It’s just our way of saying welcome,” said Scott shrugging. 

 

Welcome, welcome.  Stiles was getting pretty sick of that word.  How about privacy and alone time?  How about 10 minutes of just him and his dad alone in their own temporary house?

 

 “When someone new comes to Beacon Hills,” Scott went on, “we all like to pitch in to make the transition smoother.  I mean, it doesn’t happen that often, so it’s a pretty big event for us.”

That made no sense.  Surely visitors weren’t that rare — how on earth would they survive as a business if they didn’t have customers?  $60,000 couldn’t be nearly enough to keep this whole town going for any length of time.  And if they weren’t trucking people in for the seminars —

_Leaving town makes him grumpy-wumpy_. 

“Does anyone ever _leave_ Beacon Hills?” asked Stiles, not really wanting to know the answer.

Scott tilted his head.  “You aren’t still thinking about leaving are you?” he asked.  Although his expression was all concern, Stiles detected just a little bit of threat behind his dark eyes.

“No, no,” said Stiles hastily.   “It’s just if you don’t have a lot of new people showing up to your wellness seminars — you’d pretty much have to keep the people who do come, right?  Or this place would be a ghost town.  I mean, I thought this was the kind of place where you came and stayed for a couple of weeks or a month or so and then left again, you know, when you are well.”

Apparently this was the right thing to say because Scott was back to sunny smiles again.  “Oh, yeah, you’re right.  No people pretty much stay.  I don’t think anyone has ever decided to leave, not after they’ve experienced our seminars.”

“No one, ever?” asked Stiles vaguely horrified.  “Not even to get supplies?”

Scott raised a brow.  “Oh well, yeah, of course.  Erica’s dad drives a truck into town every day with a supply list.   Though we do grow all of our own vegetables and we have chickens and pigs and even a couple of cows, we can’t make everything we need.  And Lydia’s dad  — he’s a lawyer — works for us in Redding.  He stays there all week and comes back on weekends.”

“But they all come back,” said Stiles.

Scott looked vaguely incredulous that Stiles would even ask.  “Of course they do.  We’re family here.  Why would anyone want to leave permanently?”  

The door bell rang.  “Great!  They’ve started to arrive.  You know…” said Scott looking Stiles up and down.  “You might want to put on something.”

Stiles looked down at his plaid boxers.  “Oh, oh, yeah.”   Stiles hastily pulled a  fresh pair jeans and a t-shirt from the bureau.    His thoughts were still stuck on the last conversation.  

Why would anyone want to leave, indeed.   Stiles could think of a _lot_ of reasons.

“Well, at least you’d think there would be a lot more new people showing up,” he said while shimmying his pants up.  “Because healing sounds pretty damn good and there’s a lot of hurt people in this country.”  He said, putting the last fiddly touches on his clothes as he followed Scott out of his room.   From the noise coming from downstairs, it seemed like a whole bunch of people had arrived.  Laughter and greetings rang out.

“I’m sure we would be flooded with people if they knew we existed,” said Scott.  “But we don’t advertise ourselves.  In fact we keep a pretty low profile.”

“Then how did my dad find you guys?” asked Stiles.

“He didn’t.  We found him.”

Stiles felt his face darkening, he followed Scott out of the bedroom.  “What you people read the papers looking for folks who win settlements?”

Scott stopped in the stairwell.  He grabbed onto Stiles’ shoulder and, wow, Stiles had not realized just how strong Scott was, because that grip was _iron_.   Someone Stiles didn’t know called a greeting at the both of them from the foot of the stairs, but they both ignored the person.  Scott looked deep into Stiles eyes in a way that made Stiles skin crawl a bit.

“I know what you are thinking, but this really isn’t a scam,” said Scott earnestly.  “We aren’t just looking for marks, like you seem to think.  I can’t explain exactly how we found you right now.  You wouldn’t believe me if I did.  All I can say is that we _knew_ you needed us, and so we approached your dad and offered our help.   We weren’t preying on you or anything like that.  You were called to be here with us.”

“Called.  Like fated.”

“Exactly like fated,” said Scott, his eyes glinting with excitement.  “So you can see why we find it kind of disturbing that you keep talking about leaving.  You are supposed to be here and be my friend.  It was … predicted.  You know.  Foretold.”

“Like fortune teller stuff?” asked Stiles raising an eyebrow.   He expected some new-agey hocus-pocus, but this was over the top.  He suddenly burst into laughter.  The people downstairs looked up from their conversations and, misunderstanding his mood, gave him glowing approving looks.  “I should tell you, Scott.  I’m don’t believe in all that paranormal mystic stuff.  I’m pretty much a skeptic.”

Scott laughed back and let go of him.  “Yeah, I don’t think you’ll stay a skeptic for long.  Come on, we’ve got lots of introductions to make.”

* * *

Somehow in the chaos, Stiles was given a plate full of pancakes, but he hardly had a time to get a bite in between all the introductions and questions.  He found himself being shuffled about from the kitchen to the living room, while people touched his shoulders and back and even hair.   He barely even glimpsed his dad, but from what he saw, he could tell John was getting the same treatment.    Everyone was being so damn nice and so ridiculously eager to see Stiles that he couldn’t quite bring himself to shrug them off, even though most of him wanted to run for the safety his room.

These people certainly didn’t believe in personal space or privacy.  He was hugged, held, his hand was shaken so much that his palm felt chafed.  He nearly had his fork knocked out of his mouth.   The Douchess of Crazy herself, Kate, was so enthusiastic about seeing him this morning, she actually lifted him up off the floor from behind.  Psycho and _strong_ , Stiles thought. 

Everyone around here seemed to be strong and great shape.  There wasn’t a fat person in the lot.  Maybe it was the fresh air and vegetables, but it seemed somehow _wrong_.  This was America, after all.  The land of the large.  Apple pie and hamb— No.  Not going there.  Stiles put his half-eaten breakfast on the hall credenza.

Speaking of large, though not fat, where was what’s his name?  Derek?  He looked around but didn’t see any sign of Kate’s dark, broody boy-toy, so perhaps it wasn’t the entire town crowded into the house, but God did it ever feel like it. Someone shoved into his back and nearly made him trip over someone else’s shoes.  Damn.  How soon could he run out the door begging for air?

* * *

Stiles didn’t actually hear the signal, but it seemed as one everyone in room started heading out of the house, pulling Stiles along with them.  Literally.  Someone had latched onto his arm and started tugging him out onto the porch, then down the stairs to the street.  The town was alive with people all leaving their homes at once.  Everyone called out hellos to everyone else.   There was a lot more people here than Stiles had realized.  He’d somehow had the impression that there were only a dozen or so families, but there appeared to be five or six hundred people converging on the Lodge when he got there.

He fought his way over to his father, who was talking avidly with two people he didn’t recognise.  “Hey dad, long time no see.”

“Hey, Stiles.  You enjoying yourself?”  John was all grins.  “Everyone’s so friendly here.  Big difference from home, isn’t it?”

Stiles fought to keep from making a face.  “Yeah.  Big difference.  Um…”

“You and Scott seem to be hitting it off.”

“Yeah, we are totally BFFs,” Stiles replied. “Listen—“

“Hold that thought, Stiles,” said John.  The masses had pressed them into a large auditorium.  Benches had been set up in long rows in front of a stage.  The place was decorated with bunting worthy of a political rally, mostly in blues and greens, but with some purple and red streamers.  Next thing Stiles knew he was herded to the front row and sat right in front of the podium.  Scott and his mother sat down between Stiles and his father.   Stiles was beginning to suspect that there was a deliberate coordinated effort to keep him and his dad apart.

After everyone settled, the lights dimmed except for those on the stage.   Music cued up and the room was filled with a meandering new-age melody that never seemed to repeat or go anywhere.  The crowd quieted down, and then the music softened, until there was nothing but an almost subliminal drum beat as Gerard took the podium.  He was dressed in a suit and looked to Stiles as if he were about to conduct a corporate meeting rather than lead a hippy rally.  For a few seconds, he arranged a set of papers in front of him and tapped the mike.  The room filled with a nervous anticipation. 

“Good morning,” he said at last.

_Good morning!_ the crowd rumbled back.

“Are you ready to be happy?”

_Yes!_ answered the crowd enthusiastically.

Gerard went through a few more back and forth formulaic volleys with the audience, then segued into his lecture.  Around him everyone seemed to sit taller and breathe faster.  Stiles found it hard not to feel caught up by the sheer amount of excitement coming from the people around him.  Even though to his ears the whole thing was a bit awkward and kooky, no one else seemed the least bit embarrassed.  

Gerard’s words were nothing special — a lot of affirmation, telling the audience how wonderful they were and how much power they had over their lives.  Telling them that every goal imaginable was right in their reach if they just tried hard and thought positively.  Stiles wanted to scoff, but Gerard spoke with such utter conviction that Stiles had a hard time doubting Gerard’s sincerity.  No, it was more than that.  Part of Stiles really, really _liked_ what he was hearing and wanted to buy into it.  By the time Gerard had the audience shouting away all their negative thoughts and fears, Stiles was yelling along with everyone else, even though less than an hour earlier he would have found it silly.

After the shouting bit, Gerard announced:  “Now that the negative energy is banished, lets fill ourselves with positive energy.”  That apparently was a cue to stand up and form a line.  Stiles shuffled along after Scott, feeling someone else at his back.  He couldn’t exactly see what was going on ahead of him, but it seemed like everyone was climbing up onto the stage to shake Gerard’s hand or something.  It wasn’t until his father leaned down that Stiles caught a glimpse of what Gerard was doing.  

It was the egg.  That weird polished geode thing he’d been playing with in his office the night before.   Now he held it up by his finger tips, with a smile curling the corners of his mouth.  As he held it up, Stiles’ dad leaned forward and seemed to be giving it a kiss.   He then shuddered and staggered as someone Stiles didn’t recognise pulled him away.  Melissa took his place and kissed the weird piece of rock as well, then she too staggered off like she was trying to find her sea legs.  Scott didn’t hesitate to replace her.

It’s like some weird form of communion — only with a rock instead of a wafer.  What the hell?  Ew… germs!

Suddenly Stiles was at the head of the line, looking at Gerard’s red and black and purple rock-crystal thing and imagining how much spit was spread across its polished surface.  Yeah, he wasn’t touching that.    But he couldn’t break out of line, either.   Gerard was staring at him expectantly, and the guy behind him was pushing him forward, gently but insistently. 

Reluctantly, Stiles leaned forward as though he planned on kissing it, but pulled his head back when he got within two inches of it.   He felt a weird prickling warmth next to his face, like the stone might have heated up in an oven.

“Hold on, son,” Gerard said as Stiles attempted to move on.  Stiles felt Gerard’s free hand grab the back of his head and roughly push it down again, while the other pressed the stone against his lips.

All thought of germs fled his mind as his brain exploded with joy.  A tingling ecstatic energy travelled from his lips up through his eyes causing him to see a brief rainbow of sparks.  Then it moved down his arms and legs easing a multitude of tiny aches and pains he hadn’t realized he had.  When his sight cleared again he was wandering off near the back of the stage, feeling energetic, joyful and optimistic.  He almost gave a cathartic shout just to let all this amazing feeling out.

 Scott was watching him with a huge grin.  “Isn’t it great?”

“Wow.  Yeah,” said Stiles.  “Oh, oh wow.  Oh wow yeah.  What _was_ that?  Never mind, I don’t even care. I don’t care.”

Scott grabbed his shoulder and guided him to the steps leading off the stage.  “Come on, we got a few minutes to socialize before we have to go to school.”

Stiles wiped the tears of joy from his face and concentrated on walking straight.  Euphoria threatened to make him trip over his own feet.  When he saw Jackson standing by the doorway, he just gave the boy the hugest grin ever.  “Hey, man, how you doing,” he said.

Jackson looked smugly at him.  “Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

* * *

The rest of the teens from the night before gathered just outside the auditorium, near a maple tree.  They all greeted Stiles with back pats and then talked among themselves.  Stiles couldn’t really follow the conversation since it involved people he didn’t know and events he hadn’t been there for, but he was feeling too good to really care.   He didn’t even notice that Lydia wasn’t among them until the girl came from up the street to join them.  

“Hey,” she said.  “I need to borrow Stiles.  Tell Harris I’m taking him to Deaton for his check up.”

Scott frowned.  He pulled away from Allison who he’d had his arm around.  “Shouldn’t I be the one taking him there?”

Lydia shook her head, “It’s fine,” she said.  “I can afford to miss the lesson, you can’t.  Besides, you can’t completely monopolize him.  That wouldn’t be fair.”  She smiled over at Stiles like a goddess gifting her attention to an unworthy drudge.  Stiles’ heart sped up and he was instantly in crush with her.

Scott didn’t look placated.  “I don’t really think it’s best —“

“Come on,” Stiles intervened.  He leaned forward and whispered into Scotts ear.   “Don’t cramp my style, dude.  You’ve got Allison.” 

Jackson, Erica, and Boyd all stopped talking and let out snuffled laughs.   Jackson turned his head.  “Yeah, Scott, don’t cramp his style.”

Lydia’s smile tightened and she rolled her eyes.

Scott relented slowly.  “Okay,” he bit out. “But I want him back as soon as possible.  I’m not kidding.”  

Stiles felt caught between feeling flattered and feeling owned.   _Relax, buddy, there’s plenty enough Stiles to go around_ he almost said, but didn’t.  Scott seemed weirdly serious about keeping him close and Stiles got a creeping sensation of danger.   Was he jealous?  Of Lydia?  It seemed way too early in their relationship for that.  He giggled awkwardly to release tension.  “I’ll be fine.”

 “Of course, you will.  I don’t bite — unlike some people.  Now come on.”  Lydia sighed and grabbed his shirt sleeve, pushing him toward the street.  They passed several clumps of grown ups as they walked down the paved road.  Everyone turned to watch them and give a smile and wave.   Lydia smiled and waved back.  Stiles just kind of gaped, his concentration nearly entirely centered around the fact that this beautiful girl had her arm _voluntarily_ on his elbow.  If the kids back in Merepolk saw him now, their jaws would be on the ground.

He felt her grip tighten.  “Smile, Stiles,” Lydia hissed.   “Smile and wave.  If you seem unhappy they are going to worry about us and you don’t want anyone worrying, do you?”

Stiles jolted at her conspiratorial tone.  Well, he hadn’t been unhappy until she’d said something, but now he remembered that he was stuck in a creepy cult town full of strange people and an egg thing that worked like magical heroin.  He plastered a smile on his face and waved at the near by clump of adults.   They smiled back, but Stiles could see concern in their eyes.

“Why are they worried?” he asked, tensely.  “What are they afraid I’ll do?”

“Not you.  Me.  Because I’m not really the safest person for you to be around,” Lydia said, leaning warmly into his shoulder as they walked.  Stiles looked  down at her.  She was five-three, a hundred and ten pounds tops, and unlike some of the people around here her muscles didn’t bulge like rocks.  Other than cutting him to pieces with her tongue, Stiles couldn’t see how she could be a danger to him.

“Why?”

“I’m a teenage girl with a limited supply of boys to date.”  

_Oh._   For some reason Stiles was actually let down by that.  

She went on: “Now show me that you’ve got a brain to go along with the nerdiness and tell me all about how hot you think I am.”

Oh, that he could do.  He had that nailed.  “I do think you are really hot, Lydia.  Like out of my league hot.  Like, amazing,” Stiles babbled.  It was kinda nice to be able to actually say the truth and not have the response be “fuck off.”

“Excellent,” said Lydia, softly, her smile growing bigger.  “Keep it going.”

“You — your hair is amazing.  Do you use conditioner?”  Stiles winced as soon as the words came out.   He could see Lydia’s teeth grit.  “And you… you smell really good.”

“Okay,” said Lydia.  “Scott’s far enough behind us, I don’t think he’s listening anymore.”  She relaxed a bit, looping her arm around his in a more casual way.

“Why would Scott be listening?” Stiles asked. He glanced around but he didn’t see Scott anywhere near them.  Scott's hearing must be superhuman if Lydia thought he could listen in on them at this distance.

“Because he’s been kissing that egg for four years now and he’s not going to let anything rock the boat.  Also, he’s a wolf and they tend to be possessive with their toys.”

Stiles laughed.  “He’s not a real wolf.  That’s just, like, a metaphor, right?” 

Lydia looked at him, both brows raised.

“Well, I’m not a toy,” said Stiles, more certain.  “And I’d like to know what’s going on here.  What was that egg thing?”

“That egg is how Gerard Argent keeps this town under his control,” said Lydia.   “It’s magic, as you’ve guessed.  But you can forget ever getting your hands on it.  The only people allowed to hold it are Gerard and his most trusted and loyal Hunters.  Which you have already ruined your chances of ever becoming.

“As for you, Stiles,” she continued.  “Don’t be in too much of a hurry to join Peter’s wolf pack.  Once you do, you’ll _really_ be stuck.”

Stiles shuddered.  “What do they want?” he asked, he tried to pull his arm away, but she held it tightly.  “What should I do?”

Lydia put her finger to her lips, her eyes glued on a building up ahead.  “Don’t shout,” she whispered, forcefully.  “There isn’t even close to enough time to tell you what you want to know.  All I can say is don’t trust anyone, not even me.  And for God's sake, _be discreet_.  If you want to be kept on a  leash so tight that you can’t even go to the bathroom by yourself, then go ahead and keep telling everyone how much you want to leave.  Gerard will have you kissing the egg five times a day until you forget you ever lived anywhere else.”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t happening,”  Stiles shook his head.  “What do they really want from us, Lydia?  If my dad signs over the whole settlement we got to Gerard, do you think then he’d let us leave then?  That’s two million dollars.  We’d just be two more mouths to feed and who wants that, right?” The settlement had never really felt real to Stiles anyway.  He was sure he wouldn’t miss it.

Lydia shook her head.  “It’s not about money, Stiles.  Beacon Hills has plenty of money.  Two million is nothing compared to the trust Danny’s dad manages.  The only reason Gerard took all your money is so he could keep you and your dad financially dependent on the town.  When Danny arrived here he had six hundred dollars on him in _pocket change_ and Gerard didn’t even try to confiscate it.  At least not until Danny used that money to try and escape.”

“Wait, Danny escaped?”

“No, idiot.  Obviously he didn’t,” Lydia said, lightly slapping his shoulder. “But he got farther than anyone else here has.   Kate and Derek caught up to him in five hundred miles South of us and, well, it was ugly, but now he’s back and he’ll never leave Beacon Hills again.”  They neared a low building that had a bright awning and the words “Clinic” inscribed in red paint on the front window.  “And neither will you, now that you’ve flapped your big mouth off.  So take my advice.  Be a good boy and play along.  Don’t give anyone grief.  At least not until you know what the hell you are doing.”

A black man stepped out the door as they arrived.  “Lydia,” he said, his voice tinged with warning.  “I hope you haven’t been upsetting Stiles.”

_Upsetting_.  That was so obviously code for giving Stiles too much information.

“Not at all,” said Lydia, smoothly.  “I’ve been giving him a reason to want to settle in,” she hugged Stiles’s arm tightly.  “You will, won’t you?” she cooed.  “For me?”

Stiles nodded.  He was too confused to do anything else.

“I’ll take him from here, Lydia,” said the man, firmly.  “Go on back to school.”

Lydia blew Stiles a kiss and sassed her way back down the road.

Stiles watched her go.  _Passed off again._   He turned back and met this new stranger’s eyes.   “Hi,” he managed weakly.  “Um.  I’m Stiles, which you, of course, know.  You are?”

“Doctor Deaton,” said the man, smiling warmly at him.  Suddenly, he just seemed like the cuddliest grown-up Stiles had ever met.  “Come on inside let’s get you checked out.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

Deaton didn’t seem too awful.   He was actually rather fatherly.  If Stiles hadn’t seen him glaring so coldly at Lydia, he would have been tempted to open up about his doubts and fears.  But Lydia’s words had made an impression, and he decided that he really could keep a secret after all.   So when Deaton casually asked while taking Stiles’ weight, “Is the seminar still helping you?” He quickly replied, “Yeah, I feel good,” even though the euphoria had long since worn off.

“Excellent,” said Deaton, getting his height.   “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with Scott.  Is he being good to you?”

“Yeah, he’s fantastic,” said Stiles.  Man, the gossip in this town was crazy.

“Lydia seems to have taken a shine to you,” murmured Deaton.

“Yeah.  Not sure why.  I mean, I’m new, but I’m not really anything … I mean, you’d think she’d go for someone more like Jackson.”

Deaton nodded.  “Oh, she has.”

“What?” asked Stiles, his mouth going dry.  “Wait — what?  She’s with Jackson?  Jackson encouraged me to flirt with her.  Why would he _do_ that?  That wasn’t a test was it?  Did I just fail a test?  Oh shit, he’s not going to beat me up is he?”  Lydia wouldn’t have played him like that?  Would she?

Deaton laughed.  “No, no.  No one is going to beat you up, Stiles, relax.  You may have noticed we only have three girls in your age group.  Next closest is eleven years old. Rather than having all you boys fight over the three, Gerard doesn’t want your age group to be too exclusive.  Even Scott and Allison are expected to date others from time to time.  Eventually, when you are adults and have a wider dating pool, you can choose marry and I expect that Lydia and Jackson will eventually settle down together, but nows the time not to be too serious about such things.  Try everyone out.  Get a few of those wild oats out of your system.”

Stiles gaped. What the hell was he implying?   Okay, so maybe this town was like a hippy, love fest, flower-power commune of some sort, but these were the days of AIDS and multiple drug resistant gonorrhea.  Adults weren’t supposed to encourage teen promiscuity!  They were supposed to preach abstinence and promise rings!  

“What about social diseases?  Teen pregnancy?” he managed to ask.

“That’s where I come in.”  Deaton smiled beatifically.  “The nice thing about isolation is that we don’t get a lot of diseases out here.  You can date, but don’t go sleeping with anyone until I get your blood work back.”

Stiles couldn’t believe it.   What the hell was wrong with this town?  Christ.   He’d never considered himself remotely a prude before.  But right now, his sensibilities were feeling bruised.  What would these guys suggest next?  Drugs?  Alcohol?  Smoking?  He had a godawful vision of his dad handing him a pack of cigarettes and saying, “Smoke up son.  Don’t you want to look cool?”

Deaton’s smile turned into something less smug and more concerned.  “Or not, Stiles.  If you aren’t ready, just tell Lydia and Scott ‘no’ and they’ll respect it.  No one is going to do anything to you that you don’t want.”

Lydia and Scott?  Lydia and _Scott_?  Wait, what?  What?  But Scott was with Allison?  _What?_

Deaton clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “Okay, relax, breathe.  It must be a bit of culture shock coming here.  I’ll talk to Gerard about giving you a one on one session.  That usually helps a lot.”

Through sheer effort of will, Stiles forced a smile on his face.  “Oh, wait, no, that’s not necessary.  I was just surprised.  About Scott.  I mean.  I didn’t think.  I’m all for gay… bisexual relationships.  Polyamory.  Woo hoo!  Yeah.  I used to be considered dangerously open minded.  I was like the only member of my high school’s gay-straight alliance club.   So, no, I appreciate the concern, but I’m cool.  I’m totally cool. Don’t worry about me.”

Deaton went back to that blank happy smile.  “Okay, let’s get you checked out.”

* * *

The exam was pretty much a typical well-kid check up, except for one bit at the very end.  Deaton had Stiles hold out his hand and he’d poured a little finely ground bark dust into it.  It smelled earthy and felt gritty.  

While Stiles looked at it questioningly, Deaton told him to believe that the dirt would ward off danger.  It actually took a while for Stiles to comply because he really had no idea what Deaton meant or what he was up to.  He was half tempted to refuse on the grounds of “what the ever loving fuck,”  but the thought of Gerard pushing that egg into his face again was enough to have him holding the handful and willing with all his might.

And what do you know the dirt actually _glowed_ for a second.  Holy fuck.    “What the hell!” he said flinging the sparkling mess away.

“Relax,” said Deaton, his smile glowing almost as much as the dirt.  “I expected that you would have quite a bit of talent and you do.  Your father is probably talented as well.”

“Talented at what?” Stiles asked, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Magic.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” Stiles said automatically, but it wasn’t true.  He did.  That egg.  The dust.  The proof was pretty incontrovertible.

Deaton looked skeptically at him.  “I don’t have to be a Wolf to know you’re lying.  You are a realist, you can see that there are things going on around you that can’t be explained by science as you’ve been taught.  But it’s not as hard to wrap your mind about as you might think.  It’s not really magic, you see.  Magic is just a name we use for what we don’t understand/ There’s a science behind making that ash glow.  In Beacon Hills, we practice thaumaturgy — soul mechanics.  We harness the power of our will to affect ourselves and the world.  It can be quite powerful and useful, once you know the trick of it.”

“Soul mechanics,” said Stiles with an uncomfortable laugh.  “Makes it sound like putting together an engine.  Or possibly satanism.  Satanic engine.”

“No Satan.  But the engine’s not that far off.  A lot of thaumaturgy is like that.   The right ingredients, with the right properties, prepared the right way, and you get a reliable result.  Mr. Harris will teach you the basics of it in school.  Other parts are more intuitive and inbuilt, like what makes a wolf a wolf.   Pretty cool, huh?”

It was actually very cool.  Mind-blowing, but cool.  For the first time Stiles actually considered that staying in Beacon Hills might be worth it.  This was like Hogwarts… if Hogwarts was run by Scientologists.   Actually, that was a somewhat disturbing thought. “So does this mean I’m going to be trained to be a wizard?”

“Mage,” Deaton corrected.  “Perhaps.   That would be my recommendation.  I hear that Gerard thinks you should be a wolf.  Unfortunately, those two things are largely incompatible.”

“Oh,” said Stiles.  So no Hogwarts for him. It was just like fate to offer him up something neat and then snatch it away.  Moreover, once again he had a nasty feeling “wolf” meant something other than just a club for teens.  Like there might be a certain prefix to the word that no one mentioned, that would explain all the sniffing and weird behavior.  If that were the case, Stiles had seen enough classic late night movies to know that being a monster wasn’t his style.  He’d much rather be Daniel Radcliffe than Lon Chaney.

“Don’t worry, though,” said Deaton.  “This is months in the future.  You’ll be completely prepared for either path when the time to choose comes.”

“Okay, good,” said Stiles, relieved.  Months from now he fully expected to be the hell out of this town.  Maybe with the help of some of this soul mechanics thingy.   Now that he knew it existed, he could figure out a way to teach himself.  There had to be books or something.  His heart grew lighter for the first time since he’d arrived.

* * *

Stiles was not surprised to see Scott waiting for him outside of the clinic.  The “wolf’s”  face went from pensive to lit up in a second, and once more Stiles was overwhelmed by just how magnetic he was.  Was that some wolfy magical trait?  Or was it just that Scott was super friendly and good looking and charismatic in the ordinary every day sort of way.   In any case, Stiles wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so _glad_ to see him after being apart for an hour.  Certainly not his old friends — who would have been quick to denounce it “gay” to be hugged the way Scott was now hugging him.

Maybe they wouldn’t be wrong.   If Deaton was to be believed, Scott was bisexual.  Which was also cool.  Stiles had come to terms with his own budding bisexuality months ago, which was a minor miracle given how homophobic his home town was.  Not that he’d ever had a chance to test it.   He’d never met anyone else in the same boat, or if he had, they were being a lot more discreet about it than Stiles.  Or perhaps he was equally unattractive to both genders.  

But not to Scott.  Scott liked him.  Like, _possessively_ liked him.  Like, in his face with the whole liking.

Stiles found himself, shyly, wondering what exactly it would feel like to turn his head just a few inches and kiss Scott.  The idea set off a prickly odd mixture of fear and excitement that effectively short circuited his brain.  This was worse than when Lydia wrapped her arm around his. 

Whoa dude, he thought to himself.  Slow down.  The last thing he needed to do right now was get distracted by things that were soooo not important to getting him and his Dad the hell out of this situation.  Good looking or not, he wasn’t sure he trusted Scott.  Lydia had suggested he not trust anyone and she seemed to be pretty sensible.  Besides, whatever the free love sensibilities around here were, Stiles was so not going to get between Gerard’s granddaughter and her boyfriend.  That would be suicide.

Scott’s nostrils twitched and  his expression grew, if anything, more excited and happy.  He began pushing him along the road back towards the center of town.  

“The good news is, thanks to you, I get to cut class,” Scott was saying.   “The bad news is we have to go back right away.  Otherwise I’d show you the best parts of town.”

Stiles pulled himself together.    Class.  School.  He hadn’t even been in town for 24 hours and already he had to face that again.  You’d think that he’d get a day or two to get his bearings, but no, that wouldn’t do.  These guys didn’t want to give him a chance to think.

The school was in the same building as the rec room from the night before.  The first floor appeared to have been taken up largely by a gymnasium of some sort where about fifteen to twenty (it was hard to keep track) elementary aged kids ran around throwing balls and playing with hoola hoops.  Lunch tables were folded up against a wall.  Up the stairs lead to a long hall and several big classrooms opening off each side.  Stiles peeked through a small glass window at group of children barely out of diapers doing some kind of messy arts and crafts.  

Scott tugged Stiles past that door and brought him to a very large classroom at the end of the hall.  This room was divided up into three clearly marked sections, though there was no barrier between each area.  One was set up as a classroom lab, complete with sinks and tables and bunsen burners.  Another corner had bean bags, barcaloungers, and bookshelves and was obviously a reading nook.  Stiles drew his eyes wistfully away to see that all the students were seated at traditional all-in-one desks next to a whiteboard at the front of the classroom.

A tweedy man with hipster glasses stared at Stiles with a look of impatience.  “Good to see you finally made it, Stilinski,” he said in a voice that suggested the opposite.  “Tomorrow, try to be on time.”

“I was at the doctors,” Stiles said by way of excuse.

“Yes, I know.  I just don’t see why it had to happen during my time and not your free time later today.  Well, don’t just sit there gaping, pull out your math book, the page is on the whiteboard.”

Wow.  Another for the douche pile, Stiles thought.  For all the daily “wellness seminars” there seemed to be an awful lot of angry unhappy people in this town.  

* * *

Despite Deaton’s promise of magical instruction, it turned out that Mr. Harris (for that’s who the teacher turned out to be) had a perfectly ordinary math lesson in mind.  Stiles had always been good at math, so it wasn’t too difficult to follow along, even though this wasn’t the section he was being taught back in his old school.  He finished his problems quickly and used the extra time to get some kind of handle on who was in his class.

To his surprise, it was the same group of teens with him as before, no more and no less.  Stiles began to realize that this really was all the teens in Beacon Hills.  Nine kids, including himself. They couldn’t even make a proper football team.  Allison noticed his curiosity and pushed her chair close to his to answer the questions that were bursting behind his lips.  To Stiles's surprise, Harris, though he did give them a dirty look, did nothing to stop their whispered conversation.

The first thing she told Stiles was that there weren’t proper grades in this school — there just weren’t enough kids for that.  The teachers just threw everyone more or less the same age together and expected them to work to the best of their ability.   Erica and Boyd were the babies of the group at fifteen, while Allison, Lydia, and Danny were old ones at seventeen, the rest were sixteen like himself.   They were the only teens in the entire town.

Allison didn’t tell him, but he figured out anyway, that there was definitely a hierarchy among the teens and Allison, of all people, seemed to be at the top of it.   Everyone deferred to her, though Allison was quite gentle about it.  When she suggested something, they all leaped to do it, including Scott, who otherwise appeared to be the classroom’s second in command.  From there the order got a bit confused.  Sometimes it seemed that Jackson was next up, and sometimes it seemed to be Isaac.  The two didn’t like each other much so neither deferred to the other.  Then came Boyd and Erica.  And finally, lowest on the totem pole was Danny who simply did what anyone told him with a smile on his face like it was no big deal.   

The only person he couldn’t place at all was Lydia, who at times seemed to command everyone, including Allison, and other times was ignored like Danny.  But even when Lydia was following someone’s orders, she did so in an aloof manner that suggested that she considered it all a joke that she’d deigned to play along with.

Stiles's place in the order of things was also rather ambiguous.  Superficially they all (save Jackson) seemed ready to do whatever they could to please him.  He had only to look a little bewildered for Allison to leap forward to help him.  But he had no doubt that once his shiny wore off that he would quickly sink in the ranks to somewhere near the bottom.  He wasn’t sure if he’d be above or below Danny.

Over lunch he asked about it.  “So, this who ranks above who thing — how does it work?”

“What do you mean,” asked Scott, giving a good impression of actually not understanding.

“I mean the hierarchy you guys have going.  It’s not friendliness, or else Jackson would be at the bottom.  It’s not age.  It’s not grades,” Stiles liked Scott a lot, but it was clear that book learning wasn’t his forte.  “So what is it?  Seniority for joining the cul— community?” Stiles caught himself.

Scott seemed to think a bit.  There was a sly edge to his expression that suggested that he was more concerned about how much to tell Stiles rather than not knowing the answer.  “I guess seniority comes closest,” he admitted.   “With the exception of Allison, I’ve been at Beacon hills the longest.  I helped build a lot of the buildings.” He smiled proudly.  “But it also has to do with how we contribute to our community as well.  Those who can be trusted to do the right thing get more privileges than those who don’t.  Don’t worry about it though, Stiles, we are all equal, really.”

That felt like a lie, but Stiles didn’t call him out on it.  Instead he pondered the information.  It made sense.  Danny was bottom man because he’d run away.    Allison was top because she was Gerard’s granddaughter and of course she’d be loyal to her own family.  What about Lydia, though?

“What about Lydia?” he asked.

“Lydia’s kind of special,” said Scott.  “Very special actually.  But, be careful of her Stiles, she can be dangerous.”  At the other table, Lydia’s back stiffened.  Stiles realized the despite seeming to be paying attention to Danny and Jackson, she was listening in.

 _She’s not with the program,_ Stiles immediately knew.  “She’ll break my heart?” Stiles suggested quickly.  Jackson smirked.  He definitely had heard that.

Scott let out a genuine laugh.  “Well that, too.  But listen, she’s a good person, everyone here is, but —“

Lydia stood up carrying her tray past Stiles, “But I’m immune to the wellness seminars and therefore not to be trusted!”

Scott’s face hardened.  “I don’t think Stiles is ready for that, Lydia.”

“What does it matter, Scott,” she said, throwing her hair back with a flip of her head.  “He learns today or two months from now, it doesn’t make any difference.  You want him to avoid being tainted by me, you have to tell him why.”

“You’re immune?”

“The egg does nothing for me,” said Lydia.  “Sometimes I wish it did, it seems like everyone else finds it so much fun.  But me?  Nothing.  Zip.  Nada. Just a disgustingly warm stone with waay too much spit on it.  Gross.” 

 _That’s what I thought!_   “So, like, magic doesn’t work with you,” Stiles pressed.  That would be a bummer.

“ _Au contraire_ ,” she replied.  “I’m the best mage this place has, other than Deaton and Ms. Morell.   Harris loves me.  That’s why they haven’t booted me out yet.  It’s just the egg and a few other things.”  She shrugged, as if it were nothing big.  “I’m terribly inconvenient.”

“Lydia,” said Scott warningly.  “Don’t give him more culture shock than he can handle.”

“Me? Never.   Just thought he should know why he shouldn’t trust me.  It’s not like the two of us can stay apart after all.”  She scraped her left over food in the compost bin and put her tray on the rack to be washed.

* * *

That afternoon, Ms. Morrel took over the class to teach literature and history.  She had them sitting on the recliners and talk about their emotional responses to characters in a way that Stiles at first took to be rather innocuously touchy-feely, but then grew to suspect was some form of covert psychotherapy.    She played gently with a large purple crystal on the end of her necklace while each of them attempted to relate to the characters of MacBeth.

“Which do you see yourself as,” she asked Jackson.

“MacDuff,” he replied, dryly.

“And why is that?”

“Because he wins,” said Jackson.  “Duh.”

“Oh, definitely the witches,” said Lydia on her turn.  Stiles was ready to object that she was nothing like those hags, but everyone else seemed to be nodding in agreement, including Ms. Morell, so he kept his mouth shut.

Then it was Stiles's turn.  “I know you are just coming in for the end of this, but were there any characters that spoke to you?”  She eyed him expectantly.

With magic on his mind and Lydia’s answer still in his brain, Stiles meant to say “Witches, too”  but what came out of his mouth was “The trees.”

“The trees?” Ms. Morrel asked, raising both brows.  “You mean MacDuff’s army disguised as a forest?”  She fingered her necklace.  “Well that’s certainly a unique suggestion.  But let’s explore that. Do you see yourself as the cavalry coming to set things right?  Or do you see yourself as sneaky and easily overlooked?”

“Maybe a bit of both?” said Stiles, glad that she was providing her own analysis.  He wasn’t actually sure what he thought of himself.  Why the heck had he said “trees”?

“Hmm.”  Ms. Morell didn’t seem entirely happy.  Though she didn’t pursue it any further, Stiles got the prickly feeling that he was going to pay for not choosing one of the actual characters.

Apparently “trees” really was the wrong answer because as the other kids broke up to go outside and play sports, Ms. Morell caught Stiles arm.  “I really think you could do with a one on one session with Gerard.”

“Why? What did I do wrong?  Was it the trees thing?   I meant to say I’m the cavalry.  Loyal.  I mean.  To McDuff who was the enemy, but — he was also the good guy, too, right.  I didn’t mean sneaky at all.  Listen, I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.”

“Relax,” said Ms. Morell, smiling that empty false smile that Stiles was really learning to hate.   “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s pretty normal to need frequent wellness sessions in the beginning of your stay.  You’ve had a tragedy and your life has been upturned.   It won’t hurt, Stiles.”

“I’d really rather not.  I mean, I’ve already taken up so much of Gerard’s time and I’ve barely been here.  I’m settling down.  I swear!”

“Gerard doesn’t mind you taking up his time,” soothed Ms. Morell.  “He’s there for us — all of us.  Including you.  Right now I really think you need a little positive energy.”

“I don’t!” squeaked Stiles.

Scott was there at the door.  “I’ll take him,” he said.  The traitor.  

Stiles gave him the stink-eye.  

Scott just looked bewildered. “Hey, dude, why are you all sweating and nervous? No one’s going to hurt you.”  He had his hand on Stiles's arm before Stiles could think of making a mad dash.  “Come on.  The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can join us for lacrosse.”

There was no escaping.  Even if Stiles could pull himself free from Scotts amazingly strong grip, he’d never get past the throng of others who seemed to have gathered about to watch him go.   Erica and Isaac had a huge gloating smirks on their faces as he was taken off to the Lodge.   Danny looked sad.  Lydia was blank.  Jackson seemed strangely thoughtful.  Probably reordering Stiles place in the hierarchy.  I’m below Danny now, for sure, Stiles thought, glumly.  And I wasn’t even trying!  It was a trap!  How was I supposed to know what Ms. Morell wanted to hear?

There was no help for it.  He let himself be dragged across the lawn feeling humiliatingly visible every step of the way.

* * *

In shades of deja vu, Derek was sitting in the reception area just inside the wooden lodge.     He was clean, but the stubble was the same as the night before.  Apparently Derek considered it a beard or something.   He was wearing a  leather jacket this time and looked a bit like a biker.  He looked up to see Stiles being hauled past him and his eyes narrowed.  There was a dark sort of calculation behind his gaze that seemed more than a little threatening.

“Is Gerard busy?” Scott asked with what seemed like somewhat forced politeness.

Derek nodded.  “He’s on the phone, he’ll be ready shortly.”

Scott pulled Stiles into the hall to wait outside Gerard’s closed door.  “Dude,” Stiles whispered.  “Who is that guy? And what is his problem?”

“Derek?” said Scott.  “He’s part of our security.  Don’t worry about him. He looks scary but he’s only dangerous to outsiders who threaten our community.   He’s rarely around during the day.  I’m a little surprised to see him here.”

 _What about insiders who threaten your community,_ Stiles didn’t say.

A moment later, Gerard opened the door and ushered the two of them in.  He had his fakey-fake smile on, Stiles noticed.  The one that seemed to be trying say “I’m your friendly grandpa,” but really said, “Why the hell are you punks bothering me?”  He gestured for Stiles to take a seat in front of the desk.  Scott remained standing at the door looking rather like a security guard.

Gerard took up perch on the edge of his heavy wooden desk.  “So.  Did you have a good first day at school, Stiles?”

Stiles nodded. “Sure, yes.  Sir.  School was fine.”

“Getting along with the other kids?  No fights? Everyone friendly.”

“Very friendly.   I have no problem with anyone.”  The only way Stiles could think to make the situation worse would be to throw one of the other kids under a bus and have them all resenting him forever.

“Excellent,” said Gerard, slapping his thighs.  “Well, I hear from Dr. Deaton that you are in prime physical shape, but maybe a little stressed out.  Culture shock bothering you a bit?  I know it can be tough adjusting.”

“I don’t know where he got that impression,” said Stiles as innocently as he could.  “I’m completely fine.  I think you are doing marvelous things here.”

For just the scariest second, Gerard’s eyes seemed to flash a neon blue.  His nostrils widened.  “Now, I don’t think you are being entirely honest with me, Stiles.  I can’t help you if you aren’t honest.”

Shit. Wait — was Gerard a “wolf” too?

“Tell you what, how about we have a second wellness session right now.  That will put you in the right mood for … what is it that you kids plan on doing this afternoon?” Gerard suddenly asked Scott.

“Lacrosse.”

“Oh yes, lacrosse.  That’s good.  Burn up some energy.”   He reached into his pocket and brought out an object.  Stiles couldn’t help but stiffen at the sight of the egg.

“I really don’t think I need that, sir,” he said, tightly.

“Oh, I think you do,” replied Gerard.

“I already had it once today, I don't want to use it up.”

Gerard laughed.  “You can’t use it up.”

“Or get addicted.”

“You have nothing to worry about.”  Gerard held out the stone on the palm of his hand.  “Kiss it.”

“Not on a first date?” Stiles squeaked.

Gerard moved so quickly that he seemed to blur.  The next thing Stiles knew, his head was being dragged forward and the rock came up.  For a moment the hot stone smashed painfully against Stiles face, and then something within it seemed to catch.   

The next moment Stiles was flying.  He was dizzy with happiness.   Everything was just so beautiful and perfect and amazing and he was so glad to be where he was.  So wonderful.  

He hardly even noticed being lowered to the floor by Scott. 


	5. Chapter 5

 

The euphoria lasted longer than it had that morning.Stiles lost track of time.People told him to do things and he did them, because why the hell not?Scott led him out of the building and back to the school.A locker room of some sort appeared around him.He was only distantly aware of being strapped into padding.

Then he was outside in the late afternoon sunshine.The rest of his classmates were around him, similarly decked out in protective clothes, both boys and girls alike.Seeing Allison with huge padded shoulders made him giggle.The rules of the game floated into his awareness.He nodded gamely when they asked if he understood.And then suddenly he trying to chase down the other teens while they ran back and forth across the lawn.  

At some point Jackson took Scott down with a solidly painful thunk. Stiles winced.That _had_ to hurt.But Scott just sprang up again the moment Jackson got off of him.Stiles spent the rest of the game vaguely worried that someone might tackle him.He needn’t have; no one even came close to him.Of course, he never came close to the ball either.

Then the game appeared to be over and someone was practically forcing a bottle of water down his throat.“You have to keep hydrated, idiot,” came a voice, and he realized it was Jackson of all people tending to him.“How long did he kiss that damn thing?” Jackson asked somebody.

“About a minute.”

There were a few whistles.“Well, he’s going to be completely useless for a while,” Jackson grumbled.

“Take him home,” said Allison leaning over Stiles.“I’ll tell his dad that he’s spending the night with you.”

* * *

Stiles woke up the next morning to an unfamiliar ceiling.He frowned at it a moment while fighting a sense of complete disorientation.Turning his head he saw a messy desk and some framed pictures on the wall. For a bit, he tried to make them match what he remembered about his new bedroom, but they just wouldn’t.The positions were similar, but the details were wrong.He sat up and scanned his surroundings, his eyes catching on the Spongebob Squarepants clock up on the wall. Nope.This was nowhere he’d ever been before.He’d definitely have remember that.

“The hell?” he said, softly to himself.“Where am I?”He ran his hand along the side of the thing he was on and thought _air mattress_.

“You’re at my house,” said a sleepy voice.

Stiles looked to his side, he saw a hand loosely drape itself over the side of a more permanent bed.The rest of the body was buried somewhere beneath a thick brown blanket.

“Scott?” Stiles asked.

“Mmm.Yeah?”

“What happened yesterday?”

Scott sat up and rubbed his face.“Not a lot. We went to school, Gerard called you in, then we went and played lacrosse for a while.Then we came back here and ate dinner, did some homework, then went to bed.Pretty boring really, except for the lacrosse.”

“I don’t really remember it,” said Stiles.

“Just as well. Jackson kicked my ass.”Scott collapsed back down again.“We don’t have to get up for another hour.Why don’t you go back to sleep.”

But Stiles couldn’t.His mind was the clearest it had been since yesterday morning.It struck him that he hadn’t had a single conversation with his Dad since the moment they entered Beacon Hills. He had no idea what treatment his father had been subjected to.He had to find out.He stood up and fished for his clothes, which appeared to have been dropped haphazardly on the floor near the door.

Scott groaned. “Where are you going, dude?”

“Home, I want to see my dad before the wellness seminar.”

Scott snuffed out a breath.“Okay.Wait, give me a moment to get ready.I’ll come with you.”

“No need.This towns not so big I can get lost.”He looked out of the window and recognized the path and buildings enough to know which way to go.“I’ll meet you at the seminar.”

Not giving Scott a chance to respond, he dashed out of the room and down the steps.Perhaps out of nerves or excitement, he had a brain fart and the doorknob arrangement momentarily stumped him.For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out where the latch was.Luckily the door wasn’t locked.

Just as he pulled it open,Scott was right next to him, still in his PJs, holding the door shut with one hand.“Wait up, Stiles.”

“Are you keeping me here against my will?” Stiles asked, feeling himself shake with frustration.

Scott jumped back and looked shocked.“No — no, I wouldn’t do that.I just wanted to talk to you before you went.”

“Scott,” Stiles whined in what he hoped was an appealing way.“Please.Dude.I haven’t had a chance to spend three minutes with my dad since we got here.I miss him.And you are all my best friend and everything, but you are choking me to death.Please. He’s my dad, my only family, and we just lost my mom. I can’t just run off and abandon him.I need to know he’s alright. I need to …” Stiles fished for words, “connect with him again.”

Scott relented.“Okay.Stay there, I’ll get dressed and walk you home.” 

 _Way to miss the point_ , Stiles thought.But part of him suspected that Scott wasn’t quite as obtuse as he was pretending to be.He just didn’t want to admit it was his job to keep Stiles under watch all the time.Well, the hell with that.

As soon as Scott had disappeared up the stairs again, Stiles quietly opened the door and stepped out.Gritting his teeth he shut the door again, as slowly silently as possible, then creptacross the yard and out into the road. 

 Then he made a dash for it.

Though the streets were empty and the pre-dawn light wan at best, Stiles had the feeling that there were a dozen eyes on him.The town was so quiet that his slapping footsteps seemed to echo like gunshots off the sides of the houses. _Least stealthy getaway ever,_ thought Stiles. Luckily for him, he was pretty swift on his feet.Scott wasn’t going to catch him before he got home.Then, with the door locked to keep Scott and the rest of the neighborhood out of his business, he and his dad were going to have a long talk about the mess they’d gotten themselves into.

He reached the corner and headed down the path that led to the house his father was in.He could see it looming in front of him.Almost there.Almost there.

He ran, full force into a hard, hot chest.Whoever it was stepped backwards with the force of impact and Stiles bounced and tripped to the side, flailing his arms and falling on his butt. He gave a short shriek, then seemed to catch ahold of himself and realize that he’d been so fixated on his house he’d body checked one of the damn early rising culties.A cultie who must have been damn invisible for Stiles to have missed seeing him.Where had he come from?

“Stiles?” came a deep growling voice, full of annoyance. Stiles looked up at the dimly lit face and saw he’d run into the broody Beacon Hills “enforcer”, Derek. “What are you doing up?Curfew ends at six-thirty.”

Stiles was still trying to get his breath back.He stood up, rubbing his chest.“Curfew?No one told me about a curfew!Since when was there a curfew?”

“Since always,” said Derek, looking around.“Where’s Scott.”

“I’m here,” said a voice behind Stiles.He turned around.Scott stood about twenty feet behind him, dressed and, unlike Stiles, not particularly out of breath for his run.He didn’t look too happy though.“He wants to see his dad,” Scott excused, walking up to join them.

Derek looked back and forth between them.“There are bears in these woods.Sometimes they come into the streets at night looking for food. It’s not safe to wander by yourself.Next time wait for Scott.”

“He will,” said Scott hastily.“Tell Peter I’ve got it handled.”

Derek nodded.“Take him home.”He then turned and ran out between the houses and disappeared into the foliage.

“Next time, wait,” said Scott, sharply, to Stiles when Derek was gone.

“Are you in trouble?” asked Stiles.“I just totally got you in trouble, didn’t I?”

“It’s nothing.Peter will probably have me pull extra duty, that’s all.”

“Duty?”

“Night patrols,” said Scott.“There really are bears, you know.And mountain lions and coyotes as well.The wolves help keep the area safe at night.The hunters watch by day.”

“And what do the helpers do?” asked Stiles.

“Help,” said Scott, giving him that goofy grin that wasn’t quite as stupid as it looked.“Come on, you’re almost home.”

They walked the few feet to Stiles’ front porch.Stiles stopped and put a hand on Scott’s arm.“Hey dude.Thanks for saving me from the bears, but I think I’ve got it from here.”

“Stiles,” said Scott, pained.

“No.I’m sorry if this gets you into trouble, but I have to do this alone.I need to talk to my dad.I promise, I’m not abandoning you, and I do like you. I’m just not used to all this constant company.Can you imagine never being able to spend time alone with your mom?”

Scott turned his head away.“Yeah.Okay.But Stiles… It’s not…”he paused, sniffing.He stiffened and leaned forward.“Understood, sir,” said Scott softly.“I’ll see you at the wellness seminar, Stiles.”

The hurt look on Scotts face was physically painful, and the “sir” felt like a slap, but Stiles didn’t call him back as he walked down the porch steps and away towards his own home.Nice as Scott was, he was beginning to compare unfavorably with a tick, and that’s not how Stiles wanted to feel.

Finally.He breathed.Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have a key to the front door. Damn it. He tried the knob, not expecting it to open.To his surprise it turned freely.  

What the hell, Dad, he thought. Sheriff Stilinski never left doors unlocked.It was habit.Merepolk might have been small, but it wasn’t the kind of town that you didn’t lock up in, and John was well acquainted with how opportunistic criminals were.

Inside was dark and very quiet.Stiles hit the lights and headed for the stairs, wondering how upset his dad would be to be woken up, but more sure than ever that he had to start planning their escape as soon as possible.He ached at the idea of abandoning all their stuff and just running, but he was pretty sure that they’d wouldn’t be allowed to pack up and go openly.It occurred to him that he might never see Scott again and part of him felt bad about that. 

He knocked at his father’s door, then opened it.Without waiting, he flipped the lights on.John grunted from the bed, covered his eyes with his arm and then sat up.“Stiles?What time is it?” he looked at the clock by his bedside, which read 5:55. “When did you get back in?I thought you were spending the night with your friend Scott.”

“I just got back,” said Stiles.“Listen —“

“What happened?Did the two of you have a fight or something?”

“No. No,I just wanted to talk to you, Dad.”Stiles sat on the corner of the bed. “You have to listen, I don’t know how much time they are going to let us have.”

“What are you talking about?”John stared at him slack jawed with disbelief.He had the look he got when he’d just finished a late shift and really didn’t want to be disturbed.“No, better yet, don’t tell me.I’m sure it can wait for morning.”

“No it can’t,” Stiles squealed, leaning over and pulling on his father’s arm. “And it _is_ morning.Come on, come on, come on, Dad, you have to get up!We have to go!”

“Where do we have to go?”asked John, grudgingly sitting up.

“Away.This is a bad place, Dad.Like epic levels of bad.Like Jonestown bad.”

“Like what?”John rocked himself over to the edge of the bed, like the worlds slowest geriatric.Unable to wait,Stiles threw open the drawers of John’s bureau and tossed a shirt and pair of pants on the bed.“What are you doing?What — Is this that cult thing you were complaining about?Stiles, this isn’t Jonestown.It’s a retreat.”

“Dad, retreats don’t keep people prisoner. They don’t try to separate family from each other.They don’t drug you without your permission.They don’t brain wash you with a damn rock!”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Stiles.Stop that!No one’s being held prisoner. No one’s being drugged.Brainwashed?Really?”

Stiles froze and gaped.He’d expected maybe a little hemming and hawing, but he hadn’t thought it possible his father could deny the weird wellness seminar craziness.“Dad, how can you not see what is going on here?What exactly do you think they are doing with the kissing the rock thing?”

“Okay, it’s a bit hokey with the crystals,” admitted John, wiping his face.“But you have to go along with it, or you won’t get any benefit.The only power that rock has is the power we give it ourselves.The power of suggestion is an amazing thing, but it’s not like movie hypnosis.It can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“Oh, that is _so_ not true.” Stiles scooped up the shirt and tossed it at his dad.“And these people have been deliberately keeping us apart.You don’t know how hard it has been, the things I’ve had to do, just to spend two minutes with you.Didn’t it bother you to have me gone all the time?”

“No,” said John innocently.“You made friends, you were out with them.That’s good for a teenager.I think we’ve been clinging to each other too much since your mother passed.Maybe we both need a little time apart.”

Stiles looked helplessly about.“Okay, well, how about this.Let’s take a drive, just to Redding.We can have lunch and then come back.I bet you that someone will stop us if we tried doing that.”

“Yeah,” said John, dryly.“Me.Listen, kiddo, I’m all road tripped out.Particularly with you.Give me a week and I’ll take an hour and a half drive into Redding, if that’s what you want, but in the mean time, you’ve got school in a couple of hours, and I don’t want to miss the seminar this morning.It’s why I’m here.”

“Dad, you aren’t taking this seriously.”

“Yes, because you are talking nonsense and I’m tired and I want to get some sleep.”He did seem sleepy.Why was he so sleepy?

“Why are you so sleepy?” Stiles asked, suspicious.“What have they been doing to you?Sleep deprivation is a classic indoctrination technique.Oh my god, they’ve indoctrinated you!”

John gaped.“Indoctrinating? — Oh come off it, Stiles.They haven’t been doing _anything_ to me, except giving me a chance to enjoy some good old fashioned grown-up conversation for the first time in months. In fact, while you were gone, Gerard popped by and you know, we really hit it off.We were up all night together, discussing some options for the future.”To Stiles’ horror, John smiled.“Gerard says my experience as sheriff would be very helpful to this town.He wants me to join a group called the “hunters” who basically keep the community organized and iron out any problems that might arise.In fact, if I can get you to settle down a be a little less paranoid about this place,I’m inclined to say yes.”

“Dad, no!” said Stiles aghast. He stood glancing around the room as if he could somehow find something physical he could point at to change his dad’s mind. “Dad, you can’t mean that.You don’t know what you are saying.”  

“Stiles, yes!”he said sharply, and Stiles froze.He knew that voice.It was the one that came when his dad had been pushed past the point of all good humor and was about to lay down the law.“Listen up, kiddo, I’m pulling rank here and saying father knows best.I don’t know what it is about this place, but I’ve never felt more peaceful or secure or accepted. It feels like home here.And you have friends,real friends, friends I approve of for the first time in… ever. I think we both need this place.We’re where we belong.”

Stiles glared back with equal ferocity.“That’s the brainwashing talking.I bet Gerard was up here all night pushing that egg thingie in your face making you say this!”

There was a thump in the hall outside.Both Stiles and John swallowed what they were going to say next and turned to look at the closed door.  

“Wait, is he still here?” Stiles asked at the same time John grumbled, “Great, you woke our guest up.”

“What?” said Stiles, unable to articulate anything more useful.Fear locked up his muscles.He could almost hear the horror music stirring in the background.God if only this were a movie, because then … well then he’d be dead in the next few minutes because the only ones who ever survive those things are the hot-but-somehow-innocent chicks and not the nerdy boys who talked too much.He was so dead.So very, very dead.

“He was here past curfew,” replied John, as if he didn’t even notice that his son was petrified into silence.“And you were off with Scott, so I let him stay in your room.”

“Can I come in?” came the grouchy old man’s voice out in the hall.He stepped around into the open doorway before John could even say, “yes.”  

There was Gerard standing in the same suit Stiles had seen him in yesterday.It didn’t even look rumpled. He had a look of calculating intensity on his face and a cold gleam in his eye.The smile was utterly humorless. 

 “Sounds like a bit of a disagreement going on.John, would you like me to mediate?”

“Absolutely, Gerry,” said John.“Can you _please_ tell my son that you haven’t brainwashed me.”Stiles winced.

“What an interesting notion,” said Gerard.“What do you know about brainwashing, Stiles?”  

There was a sweet, cajoling note to his voice that made Stiles feel like he wanted to answer it.Stiles held his tongue against the feeling for almost three seconds before the weight of expectation and his own natural loquaciousness got the better of him.  

“I did a report on it for history last year.Well, it was supposed to be about economics in pre World War II Europe, but it kind of morphed into an essay about the way army boot camp molds naive recruits into predictable killing machines.”

“And from there he spent the next three days exploring how cults work,” said John rubbing his face.“He never did get that essay done.”

Gerard looked a little incredulous, but he nodded.“I see.”

“Stiles seems to have a talent for collecting large amounts of random information, and putting them together in unpredictable ways,” said John, by way of an excuse.“It’s actually rather useful at times.”

Gerard seemed to make up his mind. “You’re tired, John.How about me and Stiles go talk in his room for a while and let you rest.”

John nodded and yawned.“Sounds good.”

“Sounds _bad_ ,” Stiles found his voice to protest.“Dad, don’t let him take me away.”

“It’s just across the hall,” said John lying back down and pulling his covers up.

Gerard put a hand around Stiles’s upper arm and pulled.  

“OW!”Stiles screamed as his arm was unexpectedly crushed in the old man’s grip. “Ow, ow, ow! Dad, he’s pulling my arm off. He’s assaulting me, wake up!”Gerard tugged him towards the door with such force that if Stiles didn’t follow him, he was sure his arm would snap.

But John just lifted and arm and waved him off.“Close the door after you, Gerry. Stiles, stop being such a drama queen.”

* * *

 Once there were two closed doors between Stiles and his dad, Gerard released him.Stiles grabbed his arm and rubbed at the bruised flesh, wincing with lingering pain.For a skinny old man, the guy was massively strong.Like a weightlifter or something.  

Stiles looked around to see where he’d been dragged, but it appeared to be no farther than his own bedroom. The sheets had been changed and then messed up since the night before.If there had been any doubt that Gerard had been sleeping in his bed, it was gone.Stiles felt a surge of revulsion.

“Stop jittering about,” said Gerard sharply, “Sit down.On the bed.You and I are going to have a little talk.”

Stiles sat primly down on the rumpled bed.His hand touched a warm spot, where obviously Gerard had recently lain.Ew.  

“Okay, yeah,” Stiles said, finding himself feeling weirdly brave.“We do need to talk, Gerard.What will it take for you to let me and my dad go.”

“You really think I’m keeping you here by force?”

“I know you are,” said Stiles.“I’m not stupid and I’m not going crazy.If you wanted me to think that this place was just some ordinary hokey new age retreat, well, you blew your hand on that one long ago.So let’s just cut the crap and be honest with one another.I respect your intelligence, you respect mine.”

Gerard shook his head, a genuine smile on his face.“See, you are special.Troublesome, but special.All right.Honesty.You are correct.I want you and your father here and I’m willing to extend my considerable resources to make sure that happens.But I would prefer it be voluntary, Stiles.”

“Good,” said Stiles.“Well, not good in the whole prisoner thing, but at least we are talking together. So, what’s your price.How much do we have to pay to ransom ourselves?What will it take for you let us get our stuff and drive out of here?”

“I don’t think you understand, Stiles, this isn’t about money — though, the money is nice and we can use all we can get.”He leered.“This is about need.Your need and our need.”

“Yeah, I know all about our needs,” said Stiles dryly.“What do you need us for?”

Gerard scratched his brow.“Well, here’s the thing, Stiles.I know it doesn’t look it, what with us being so isolated and peaceful, but Beacon Hills has enemies.Powerful ones.Ones who know magic.Ones who _are_ magic. To protect ourselves from these people, we need as many resources as we can gather.That means finding and recruiting people who have that natural, untapped power.”

“Like my dad,” said Stiles suddenly inspired.“He’s got power.That’s why you want him to be a hunter.To protect your town.”

“More like you, Stiles,” said Gerard.“Your father has talent as well, but nothing compared to the raw, untouched potential that lies in you.”

 _Wait — I’ve got raw, untouched potential?Cool! No, not cool, bad. Way bad. I don’t want these people using me._ Stiles shook his head to clear the thrill of the compliment.“So you brainwashed my dad to keep me here,” said Stiles.“Would you let him go if I promised to stay?”If John got out, then he’d bring some kind of authorities back here.

“Your father would hardly abandon you and I’m not in the business of breaking up loving families.”Gerard crossed his arms in front of his chest.“I’m not the enemy here, Stiles.I’m trying to give the two of you a good life and save this town at the same time.”

Stiles thought he spotted an exploitable opportunity.“Well, hey, if you really want us to have a good life, let us be free to come and go,” reasoned Stiles.“Talk to us about the problems you guys are facing. Maybe we can help you without you brainwashing us into it.”

“But what is free, Stiles?” said Gerard leaning against the set of drawers.“Sure I could let you two pack up your bags and head out of town, trusting you’d come back to help a bunch of strangers out of the goodness of your heart.But even if I did,do you really think out there you’d be free?Maybe when you were an unknown, buried in your tiny little hamburger town with all those other white-bread, modern day peasants. But you’ve been here now.You’re connected to us. Our enemies will notice.And even if you hadn’t been invited to join us, how long would it have been before someone else noticed you?We aren’t the only people able to scry. All that untapped potential just doesn’t get overlooked forever. And untrained, you’d be defenseless.You think what I do here is bad, but there are other, much nastier recruiting tools out there.And your father could easily be taken as a hostage to ensure your good behavior.”

Stiles shuddered.He didn’t like how this conversation was going.

“Here your father is happy.You have friends, a home, a community.No one is going to hurt you.No one is going to hurt him.And you have the opportunity to learn how to defend yourself against the very real monsters that are out there.No there is no ‘free’, Stiles.Not for you in your current state.There’s only picking the pack you want to belong to.”

“Pack,” repeated Stiles, his voice growing faint.“The wolves. _Were_ wolves,” he let the world form in his mouth fully for the first time.“You all are werewolves, aren’t you.And this whole damn cult is a pack.You are a monster.A genuine honest to god monster, and I’m so screwed!”A hysterical giggle erupted from his mouth.“So, so screwed.”

“Don’t over stress yourself about it, Stiles,” said Gerard, clearly amused by Stiles’ mental gymnastics.“Like I said before, it’s just culture shock.You’ll get used to us before you know it.After a while, you’ll _be_ one of us.But only when you are ready.

“Until then…” Gerard reached into his pocket and pulled out the egg. “I think I better use this.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

The stone’s influence wore off so gradually, that it wasn’t until it had been gone for some time that Stiles realized it wasn’t there anymore.The moment of truth came while was sitting around the folding tables, eating lunch with his classmates, and laughing at a witty observation Danny had made about Harris’s wannabe badass attitude.  

_These guys are way cooler than my old friends back in Merepolk,_ he’d thought idly.It was the first time he’d thought about his hometown or anything of his life before coming to Beacon Hills in over a week.A week!And that’s when it hit him.He was himself again.This current good mood, though not much different from the mood he’d been in for days was 100% genuine Stiles and zero percent freaky magical eggthing.  

He was free to start planning his escape again.The thought brought mixed excitement and dread.His smile slipped away as he remembered his situation.

The laughter around the table died and Scott’s nostrils flared a bit as he looked at Stiles.“You okay there, dude?” he asked, nudging him with his elbow.

Yeah, that’s right, Scott and the other werewolves had been trained by Peter to sniff out and investigate stress hormones.God help it if anyone in town wasn’t chipper and content all the time.That could mean trouble.And so everyone had be patiently and repeatedly taught during the “wellness seminars” to keep an eye out for anyone “in distress” who might just need some form of “help.” Hell, even Stiles found himself doing it, wondering if Jackson’s odd mood this morning was just his normal crappy demeanor or if it meant that there was something wrong.  

Come to think of it, everyone seemed a bit on edge today.

“I’m fine,” said Stiles hurriedly, as the rest of the teens focused in on him.He plopped a slightly soggy crinkle fry into his mouth and chewed with gusto to show that he was indeed fine. 

And that was it — he _was_ fine.Enjoying himself even. On the surface, at least, Beacon Hills was about a thousand times better than Merepolk.The kids here didn’t treat him like some social leper who stood against God, country, and ground beef. They didn’t know any of his past embarrassments, much less deal them out like trading cards any time they felt he was getting uppity.Nor did they care.He was a fresh slate to them.More than that.They felt he belonged, even douchey Jackson thought so, all reminders of rank aside.

Unlike Merepolk, the social hierarchy seemed less centered around coolness and toadying, and more based on an almost military expectation of following orders.Orders from adults. Orders from other, higher ranking teens.Obey, obey, obey.  

It was never anything embarrassing or unreasonable: fetch this, go sit there, do this part of the assignment, play this game with us.Brainwashed Stiles had happily gone along and everyone in turn was happy with him.  

Not-so-brainwashed Stiles had balked a bit this morning, not wanting to give up the desk nearest the window to Isaac.Stiles had gotten there first, and he saw no reason to get up and change seats.It seemed petty to him.But as soon as the word “no” was off his lips, it was like the whole room had frozen.Even Mr. Harris stared at him.  

In the awkward silence, Scott said, “Stiles, come sit by me,” and patted a chair as far away from the coveted window as possible.Under the weight of all those stares Stiles had gotten up and moved seats.Immediately the tension eased out of the air.“Today’s not a good day to pick a fight,” said Scott softly in his ear.

But other than a little friction this morning over the seating arrangement, nothing untoward had happened since the morning he spent with Gerard in his room.His dad either forgot or decided not to bring up his early morning freakout.The wellness sessions were almost identical to each other, and he was pretty well used to them.At school neither Harris nor Morell seemed to be trying to catch him up. Even Jackson backed off on the assholery most of the time.While not exactly friendly, he seemed to have a grudging need to make sure that Stiles didn’t fall behind or mess up, but knew exactly what he should be doing at any time.Stiles suspected that it was just part of the alpha-dog package that all the wolves seemed to exude.For better or worse, they felt Stiles’s behavior was their responsibility to correct.

One by one, the other kids had warmed up to Stiles, though the each showed it in their different ways.It took Stiles a little while to realize that Erica’s awkward and physically painful teasing was actually her idea of showing affection, and that for Boyd, sitting silently next to you was sign that he really liked you. 

But none of them showed the kind of attention hogging possessiveness that Scott did.It was clear that he’d staked some kind of claim on Stiles and the others were respecting it.

Stiles was torn between feeling comforted, flattered by the attention, and awkward as hell about it.Especially when Allison was around and it was clear that Scott was really being a greedy bastard, demanding them both.Apparently Allison had her limits, too, and a few days ago she’d taken to hanging with Jackson and Danny and leaving Scott and Stiles to their own company.

Today they were all together, having pushed the the lunch tables into one block and under the light hearted chatter, everyone seemed just a bit hyped up in anticipation of something. Allison reached across the table to Stiles and caught his wrist.“Hey, tonight Danny, Lydia and I are going to hang at my house.We have some movies, make pizzas, dance and sleep over.We’d love for you to join us.”

Stiles had never, ever, been invited to a mixed-sex sleepover. And wait — Movies?Allison had a TV set?Could it get any better?Holy cow there had to be some trick to this.“Sure! Yeah — would I ev— are you sure? — but it’s a school night.”

“No school tomorrow,” said Boyd.“Holiday.”

“Okay,” said Stiles,the only holiday he knew of that landed on a Thursday was Thanksgiving, and that was still over a month away.But who knew what local holidays Beacon Hills had.Probably Gerard’s Birthday or Founders day or some such.He wasn’t going to question a day off from school too hard.

“What about, you, Scott,” he said, turning to look at his best friend.“Are you coming?”

For a moment, it seemed Scotts eyes lightened from deep brown to almost amber.“Can’t tonight,” he said.“It’s the full moon, Stiles.”

Oh. _Oh._

The wolves didn’t discuss the “were” part of their nature much, but there were signs of it everywhere, now that Stiles knew to look. There was a random hash of scratch marks on places like doors and desks and chairs, walls, railings.All nice and evenly spaced the way a wolf’s claws might be if they were dragged over a surface. Sometimes Stiles would see an odd glow of one color or another in the eyes of his wolfish classmates.Most seemed to go a kind of orange-yellow, but for some reason Jackson’s turned blue like Gerard’s had.He’d asked what it meant, but Scott said it was just a wolf thing and not to worry about it.Though he also said that, regardless of color, when a wolf’s eyes started glowing, the best thing for Stiles to do was to leave the wolf alone.Once he’d seen Jackson start to go actually hairy, which was bizarre in the extreme.They’d been playing lacrosse and he and Scott disagreed about a call.But before it could go any further, Peter showed up and took Jackson off for “patrol”.The rest of them called it a game and started packing up.He’d never seen any of them go full on wolf.When he asked about that, Scott just said, “Let’s hope you never do.”

It was funny, given all Stiles knew, that he hadn’t even given a thought to the effect of the moon before now.He hadn’t been keeping track at all.

“What happens during a full moon?” he asked.

The teens looked at each other.“Well, for us, it’s early curfew,” said Danny.“We have to be indoors by sundown.”

“And our night to have fun!” said Jackson, looking eager.He and Erica high-fived.“Woo!”

“Trust me, it’s not the kind of fun you want to be involved with,” said Lydia, pursing her lips in disgust.“The wolves all change and run around naked in the woods.Hunting Bambi.Fighting each other. All hairy and teeth and claws and blood and worse. It gets really gross.You don’t want to see it.”

“You squeamish, new kid?” sneered Jackson.

“More to the point, he’s not allowed to,” Allison broke in.“It’s not safe.Even the Hunters stay indoors on full moons — unless they have to go out.”

Scott looked serious, “Promise me, dude,you won’t leave the house once the sun’s gone down. Not for any reason.Allison and the others know what to do. Just follow their lead.”

“Okay, okay,” said Stiles waving his hands.“Point entirely taken.I can suffer hanging out, eating pizza, and watching tv.Not a burden.”

Scott nodded and was all sunny smiles again.

* * *

 

The party — if it really could be called a party with only the four of them — was a lot more awkward than Stiles hoped. He’d gotten so used to being one of the guys, hanging out with the Beacon Hill’s teens that he just expected that “cutting loose on the full moon,” as they called it, would be more of the same.At the very wildest, he’d entertained somewhat hopeful visions of Lydia and Allison wearing sexy pajamas and having a pillow fight.Beyond that he didn’t expect much more than popcorn and movies.

So he was surprised when the first thing they did was turn the Argent living room into a dance parlor.The lights went down and Allison plugged in a thirty year old home disco light ball while Danny selected out a bunch of CDs to put into what appeared to be an ancient 5 disc DVD changer.Even LameAss, Kansas knew how to download mp3s onto a phone or a ipod or something. Stiles bit his tongue about Beacon Hills being caught in a time warp and at least 10 years out of date because the three of them just so earnest and it wasn’t like they had any choice in the matter anyway.They were making the best they could of what they had.

“So,” he said as they picked out the music, which, surprisingly, had some fairly modern titles, “Your mom won’t mind us making a lot of noise down here?”

“My parents are out tonight,” said Allison.“They man the call centers, in case there is an emergency.If someone has to leave the house, they escort them.Usually, the wolves stick to the woods, but sometimes … no one wants an accident.The wolves would never forgive themselves.”

“So … we are all alone here?” said Stiles surprised.

“Well no.Aunt Kate is here, but she won’t bother us.”

Then the music cut in and conversation ended.

And so they all danced, which would have been great but for the fact that Stiles wasn’t quite as good a dancer as the rest of them.In fact, he was pretty bad —Which, to his credit, wasn’t so much a coordination issue as a utter lack of experience one. He’d had better things to do than dance by himself at a school (or worse, church) sponsored social.But there was no way of getting out of it now.His first thought, that maybe dancing was something that just came naturally to everyone, was dashed when he caught sight of Allison biting her lip and Lydia laughing into the palm of her hand. 

“Oh, god, Stiles,” said Lydia, after a minute.“Where’d you learn that move?Spongebob Squarepants?”

Stiles felt his face warm up.He stopped and crossed his arms in defiant shame.

“Here,” said Danny grabbing Stiles's shoulders.“Okay, don’t just flail.Stiffen up a bit.Control your movements.”

“Like this?” Stiles tried to emulate a move that he’d seen Danny make.It felt awkward and off balance.

“Maybe something a little easier,” Danny suggested, sliding behind him and then grabbing his wrists.He tried to move Stiles like an unwieldily puppet, but that just got Lydia laughing even harder.Then Allison got in on the act and tried to direct his arms and legs with taps of her fingers and position his hips with her hands.Stiles kind of froze between the two, feeling both mortified and a more than a little turned on by all the incidental groping. Unbidden, he remembered Dr. Deaton’s suggestive remarks, and he had to scream at himself that now was an epically bad time to grow an erection, but with the way Danny was rubbing up against his butt and Allison’s hands on his upper thighs, it was really, really tough.

Then Lydia completely lost it.She doubled over, howling with laughter.Her mascara ran with her tears, and she wiped it, smearing it across the back of her hand.

“You three have to stop,” she gasped out when she could.“Oh, god, I’m so glad none of my old friends could see me now.You’ve wrecked me!My face is a mess.That is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.Stiles— Stiles!”Whatever she had to say about Stiles, she never quite got out, because another fit of laughter shook her so hard she didn’t have any breath left.All she could do was hold onto a nearby wall to steady herself.

Danny and Allison started to laugh, too, and Stiles joined them to be a good sport, because the other option — fleeing out the door to hide under the house — was not really a choice.

And that’s when Kate poked her head in to see what was so funny.  

Stiles wasn’t sure why he’d never connected Kate — Kate of the creepy hands and psycho smile, Kate with the scariest dude in town as her personal cuddlebunny — that Kate with Allison’s Aunt Kate.Maybe because Allison was so sane and gentle and thoughtful and Kate was so, so very not. That urge to run off and hide under the house grew much harder to resist.

“I thought you’d be out howling at the moon with Derek,” he blurted.

Kate grinned and clicked her tongue.“Where ever did you get that idea?”She laughed. “I’m not a wolf.I’m a hunter.”Her eyes didn’t glow, but they should have.She reached out a hand and gave him a noogie.“You’re so cute, I could eat you up.‘Howling at the moon.’You’re lucky I’m not a wolf or I would.”

Thank goodness for buzz cuts and a squirmy nature, Stiles was able to duck out of her grip without too much fuss.

“Kate!” Allison admonished.

“Oh,” Kate waved off.“I’m just teasing him.Don’t look so glum, new kid!No one’s going to eat you.Save maybe Danny, if you ask real nice.Hey, I bet you could make Danny really happy -- and then we all will be happy.” She gave Danny the most deadly look that Stiles had ever seen on anyone.

Danny’s face turned red.He glowered.

Lydia suddenly gasped.“Kate, your nails!Are those acrylic?They’re gorgeous!Those can not be a home job.When did you find the time to get your nails done!”She was between Kate and Danny in a breath, holding up one of Kate’s hands to admire them.

Kate admired her crimson claws. “Do you like them?” she asked, jittering like a girl ten years younger.“I got them last week during a little break in the… negotiations.Oh, I wish I could take you there, Lyds.That woman’s hands are like magic.”

Lydia smiled brittlely, and dabbed again at the smeared mascara on her face. “Yeah,” she said dryly,“Well, if I can’t have beautiful nails myself, at least I can admire them on you, Kate.Vicarious pleasures are … great.”

Kate simpered.“Well, I’ll let you folks have your fun.I know what it’s like to be a teen,” she winked at Stiles, “Enjoy yourself.”She then closed the door.

Danny relaxed.“Thanks, Lydia.”He headed to the kitchen.Lydia shook her head and followed.

“Oh, god, I’m so embarrassed,” said Allison, hiding her face.She put her other hand on Stiles shoulder, holding him in place.“She’s not usually this bad,” she said to Stiles.“She can be nice, honest.”

Stiles rubbed his sore head.“It’s okay.Is Danny alright though? What was that about?”There had definitely been something aggressive behind the innuendo Kate had thrown his way.

 Allison looked unhappy. “Oh, you probably don’t know this, but Danny—” She lowered her voice as if saying something naughty “ _—ran away—_ ” then her voice returned to normal “— a few months ago to go be with an old boyfriend. We were all _terrified._ Kate spent days tracking him down.Anyway,she took it as a personal betrayal.I know she’ll forgive him eventually, but when you spend so much of your time defending the town against some really bad enemies, its tough when someone _in_ town does something so thoughtlessly dangerous.I mean, anyone could have picked up Danny. He could have been used as bait, or messed with, or killed.He was totally defenseless out there.And our enemies are not nice people at all.

 “But I don’t know why she’s treating you so rudely.You haven’t caused any problems.”Allison put a finger on her lips and stared thoughtfully into space.

Stiles remembered waking his dad up and begging him to escape the town.Yeah, if “runaway” was considered a dirty word to the Argents, maybe he might have done something to piss off Kate.

“Anyway, It’s best just to put it behind us,” said Allison looking pragmatic and stern.“We don’t want disturb our positive energy.Let’s go to the kitchen and make those pizzas.”

* * *

Here at last was something that Stiles felt very comfortable with.Soon the other three were leaning back against the counters, letting Stiles do all the work in rolling out the crust and preparing the toppings for a large pepperoni, olive and mushroom pizza.  

Because cooking?That, he could do.

In the last eight months, Stiles had taken up culinary arts with the determination of the possessed.In part it was to give him a feeling of connection with mom — after all the kitchen had been her domain: every pan, every spatula, every knife had been lovingly held by her hands.In part, it was pure survival, because for a while, his dad could barely handle a daily shower much less be trusted around a stove.Stiles had gotten quite good at it, looking up recipes on line and treating his father to everything from Cajun to Chinese.Just not hamburger, no matter how much his mom loved the ingredient.The thought of it turned his stomach.Claudia Stilinski’s recipe cards were left gathering dust in their box.

When the pizza was done, they returned to the living room, where Lydia chose the movie. “Have you ever seen this?” she asked Stiles excitedly, holding up the DVD case.A couple on the cover looked like they were about to devour each others souls.Either that or kiss. Probably kiss.

“Uh, no,” said Stiles.“Is it good?”

Lydia swooned.“It’s only like my favorite movie ever! ‘Is it good?’”She snorted.Allison nodded a bit uncertainly.Danny looked very deliberately neutral.

They settled together on the Argent’s oversized couch, putting their feet up on a coffee table and eating pizza and microwaved popcorn from a bowl, and watched what seemed to Stiles to be a 124 minute Hallmark infomercial.About forty minutes into the movie Danny got up to go to the bathroom and didn’t return. 

“Is Danny okay?” Stiles asked Lydia, after he’d been gone about 10 minutes.

“Yeah, fine, shhh,” said Lydia dismissively.Stiles wasn’t convinced.He stood up and went looking for Danny.As soon as he was off the couch, Lydia and Allison immediately stretched out, leaving Stiles no place to return to.

Stiles found Danny in the kitchen, drinking a beer.He reached in the fridge and handed one to Stiles, who hesitated only a second before accepting.Everyone was hopped up on magic happy “wellness” sauce.Compared to that what was a bit of teenage drinking.

“Not that into The Notebook?” asked Stiles, taking a tentative sip.Not bad.

“I’ve seen it six times already.I’ve got my limits.”Danny took a swig.“What about you?It’s a pretty good movie, the first few times at least.”

“I’m more of a horror movie fan,” said Stiles.“Or I was until, you know, I came to live in one.No offense,” he amended quickly.“Just … you know.Werewolves.”

Danny nearly snorted beer out his nose.“Yeah, know what you mean.”

“So…” said Stiles, broaching the subject that was always on his mind when he was near Danny.“Um.How did you do it?”

Danny looked at him innocently.“Do what?”

Stiles lowered his voice.“Escape.”

Danny had his hand over Stiles's mouth before the word was half out.“Shhh!Jesus, Stiles, don’t be stupid.Kate’s just down the hall.”

“Well you did,” said Stiles, even quieter.

“It was a mistake.I belong here.So do you, so shut up.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” said Stiles, resuming a normal volume.“Just, you know, trying to figure this place out.It’s not every day you move to a town full of werewolves and witchcraft.I feel so … ignorant,” Stiles admitted.“I don’t handle not knowing things very well.”

Danny nodded.“Well, ask and I can tell you what you need to know, or Scott can tomorrow.”

“Er,” said Stiles grimacing.“I kinda get the feeling that Scott’s under orders not to tell me anything.He keeps saying it’s too soon.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, nodding.“Probably so. Ignorance is bliss. Especially with all Gerard’s been…”He stopped himself.

“Gerard’s been… what?”

Danny looked shifty,he closed the hall door to the kitchen and then leaned forward and whispered: “I shouldn’t say this, but I guess you should know, especially since you and Scott are so close and you don’t know when to stop poking things.”

“Yes, I should know…” Stiles said eagerly leaning way in, ignoring the jab.

Danny lowered his voice even more:“Gerard and Scott have a special relationship.”

“Special relationship?” asked Stiles, disturbed.For a moment he entertained a horrid idea of Gerard dragging his gnarly old-mans hands all over Scott’s tight body.The idea made him want to vomit.“What sort of special relationship?”

“Not that kind!” said Danny with a look of utter disgust.He shoved Stiles away. “Ew!” Then he lowered his voice again:“Okay, We don’t know this for certain, and _don’t_ repeat this, for god’s sake.But…” He hesitated again and Stiles felt about ready to strangle the information out of Danny, “Some of us think that Gerard might be grooming Scott to become the next Alpha.”

Stiles deflated.That’s all?“So… Alpha, like the head of the pack, right?”

Danny nodded.His eyes were huge, as if the idea terrified him.

“Well, wait, why is that so secret?Gerard’s getting up there in years.Scott’s a good person.Bit young.” 

“Because Gerard isn’t Alpha.Peter is.”

The implications sank in.“Oh!” said Stiles.“Oh boy.”He’d only met Peter once for a minute or so, back on his first day. He didn’t have much impression of the man other than the wolves “respected” the hell out of him.Gerard had mentioned Peter running the “club” but that fact had flown out of Stiles head after he realized that Gerard was a werewolf as well.“Weird, I’d have thought Gerard would be Alpha.”

“Gerard is omega — outside the pack.It’s the way it had to work, because Gerard won’t accept being under Peter’s command.It’s kind of messed up, to be honest.Gerard’s a Hunter, but last year he got cancer and decided to risk the bite to cure it. Peter agreed, but only after Gerard swore a magically binding oath that he’d never seek to become an Alpha himself.”

“Smart Peter,” asked Stiles.“So how would Scott become Alpha?”

“Alphas can pass it on voluntarily if they think they are too old or sick to take the responsibility.But Peter’s only thirty-six, and he’s already chosen Derek to replace him in case of an accident.Gerard and Derek don’t get along, and Scott is probably going to marry Allison in a few years.So, you know.We’re pretty sure Gerard’s trying to consolidate all the power in town under himself and the Hunters.”

“I heard an ‘or’… Alphas can pass it on voluntarily or…?”

“Or someone can take it from the Alpha.By fighting him.To the death.”

 Stiles felt himself go pale.“Shit.Gerard wants to Scott to kill Peter?”

Danny covered his mouth again.“Shhh.We don’t know that. No one knows that. And if that rumor gets out,Peter will kill Scott.He’s already twitchy.God, I shouldn’t have mentioned this, your mouth is way too big.You have no idea how dangerous this town can be.” 

Stiles's head was buzzing with new ideas.He could not imagine Scott killing anyone.He was too nice.But he could see Gerard and his egg forcing Scott into that fight.Damn, but Beacon Hills a steaming pile of politics.And Stiles really, really wished that he and his father weren’t a part of it.

Danny continued:“Just so you know, Scott is _not_ happy with the situation.He’s trying to play peacekeeper and have everyone be happy, but it’s tough for him.Gerard’s favor puts him in a really awkward position and he has to spend a lot of time proving to Peter that he’s not challenging his authority.Derek is running interference as much as he can, but there’s only so much he can do.Peter is pretty edgy and paranoid these days, so be careful if you are around him.He’s not safe.”

“Yeah, I’ll be careful. Two of the town leaders are going after each other.This place is ready to implode.But wait, what about the Helpers.Can’t they … help?”

 “Supposedly.Not really.Helper’s are Deaton’s area.Scott says there was a time when Deaton used to stand up against Gerard.Then something happened, no one knows what. Now Deaton just hangs out in his clinic and rubber stamps everything Gerard does.The only one left who challenges Gerard is Peter, and Peter is … unreliable.” Danny finished his beer in one long swallow.Then he coughed and put the bottle down, shaking his head cynically.“So, do you still think you want to know what’s going on?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, actually I do.Thanks, Danny.And you can trust me not to talk about this.I have a mouth, but I can also keep a secret.”

“Good,” said Danny. “Because every time you start talking about things like running away, or challenging Gerard’s leadership, you make a lot of us really edgy, and a some of us can hear you from a lot farther away than you’d think.For everyone’s sake, please, Stiles, can’t you just pretend everything is okay?It’s not like we don’t all know the situation we’re in.We know better than you.”

“Sure, I can get with the program.Not rock the boat.”

“Because, you know, if you get Scott killed, the rest of us are going to hate you forever.”

Stiles nodded.“Okay.” They didn’t have to, Stiles would hate himself. But I’m not giving up, he vowed to himself.More than ever he felt that escape was the solution.He merely reframed it from “me and my dad” to “everyone in this whole fucking town.”

* * *

Danny and Stiles made one attempt to rejoin the movie, but when they returned to the living room, it seemed that Lydia and Allison weren’t watching the Notebook either.At least not unless they could do so while lying together on the couch, in fierce lip lock, hands carding through each others hair and siding up each other’s sides.Danny just stopped where he was and then turned on his heel.Stiles hesitated because, like, this sort of thing never happened in his life, at least not outside of youporn. And holy hell… hot!Double hot!

 He felt a tug on his shoulder, and reluctantly followed Danny back to the kitchen. “Did I … did that?” muttered Stiles, his mind completely garbled.“Does Scott know?”

Danny shook his head, but Stiles saw that it was because he thought it was a stupid question, not because Scott was ignorant.“Scotts a wolf.Of course, he knows.We all know who is sleeping with whom.”

“Well, I don’t.Know who is sleeping with whom.Scott doesn’t mind?”

“Why should he?” asked Danny.“It’s not like any of us are being exclusive.We tried that. That’s supposedly the reason I ran away.Jackson used to be with Lydia, Scott with Allison, Erica and Isaac were sort of together but not really.Boyd hadn’t shown up yet, so there was just me, all alone.And then I ran and met up with a dude I used to date. He took me in.That lasted two weeks … and, and well, it got really bad.Anyway, by the time I came back and everyone had broken up by Gerard’s decree and all our parents were talking about us getting too serious too fast.So now it’s kind of everyone with everyone.No one gets left out.”  

“Everyone with everyone?”

Danny shrugged.“Yeah.”

“Like Jackson and … Scott?”

Danny burst out laughing.“Oh yeah. Jackson’s slept with _everyone,_ the narcissist.And I say that in the fondest way.It’s just he’s the most ridiculously competitive guy I’ve ever met.Has to prove that he’s better than the rest of us in bed.”

“Is he?”

Danny colored a little.“Yeah.He really is. His blow jobs are … whew!” Danny made a gesture of a plane taking off. “Fantastic.”

Whew, was it getting hot in here or something?“What about you.I mean, not at blow jobs or anything,” said Stiles quickly.“Are you happy with this whole everyone and everyone arrangement?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I do okay.I’m not into girls at all, so I make the rounds with the guys when they feel like it.”His eyes seemed to challenge Stiles.

“I’m okay with you being exclusively gay,” said Stiles crossing his heart.“And anyway I kind of figured since you totally freaked out seeing Allison and Lydia together.”

“Did not freak out.”Danny was insulted.

Stiles pinched his fingers together.“Little freak out.Anyway, it looks like everyones at least a bit gay here, so lots of company.”

“Except Erica.Only dudes for her.But it’s okay.It’s not like there aren’t plenty of guys to go around even without me.”

Stiles nodded.The door opened up and Lydia and Allison came in, cheeks flushed, hair askew, looking very thoroughly happy.Lydia gave Stiles and Danny a rather penetrating look then said, “And not even a tiny bit mussed up, either of them.I win.I bet they spent the entire movie in here having nothing but awkward conversation pretending we weren’t making out in the next room.”

Stiles flushed realizing what the bet was about and at the same time hoping that they wouldn’t ask what he and Danny had been talking about. “Hi there girls.So, some party, huh.”

Allison just laughed.“You know, Stiles,” she said casually, as she took a beer out of the fridge.“Next time you can stay with us, if you like.”She uncapped the beer and took a swig.

Stiles choked.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

There was no school the next day and no Scott, either.Apparently being wolfy all night meant being snoozy a good chunk of the morning.Which meant that Stiles was pretty much on his own for the first time in weeks.Really alone.No one insisted on following him back to his house after the “party” or anything.  

Maybe in all the full moon madness, they’d forgotten that he was not really one of them.There hadn’t even been a “wellness seminar” that morning, so his head was clearer than usual. Stiles felt both incredibly free, and oddly abandoned, sitting in his unfamiliar room, in his unfamiliar house. The silence was eerie.  

Downside: No dad, either.The only sign of his father was a note attached to the refrigerator with a plain donut shaped magnet.“Taking a shift at the call center, be back at 3.”So they were still doing that thing about keeping him and his dad apart.Stiles thought of visiting, but he didn’t even know where the call center was.He supposed he could just go to the white phone in the hall downstairs and ask.

Stiles actually got so far as to lift the receiver off the handle before putting it back. Why the hell would he jinx this?Right now, this moment, apparently he was forgotten, but if he went and _told_ someone “hey, remember me?” his peace wouldn’t last.Next thing he’d know, Melissa, or Chris, or god forbid Kate would be knocking at his door, telling him to come along to some sing-in or barn cleaning or something. And god knows he’d had enough company in the last week.He didn’t think he could take any more forced socializing.

Instead, Stiles shrugged on a hoodie and decided to get a real lay of the land, and not just the “best parts” version that Scott was willing to show him.He was going to explore all the shadowy bits that his escorts edged away from.  

Whistling a happy tune, he let himself out the door and onto the narrow paved path that served as a street. He’d taken the route between his home and the school enough times, so he decided to go the the other direction, past the town’s store, the lone restaurant, the bar where apparently the town’s grown ups went to chill after a long day in the organic gardens or whatever.There was a strip of “businesses” where no money ever passed hands and you basically asked for what you needed and was helped by whoever was on duty. Stiles continued on untile the road ended in a cluster of warehouses.  

 Most of the warehouses had open doors and people wandering about near them, but the closest seemed to be dark and quiet, the large rolling doors were locked with a chains and padlocks.It practically screamed “something interesting in here!”  

Stiles wondered if that were the “barn” where the jeep and the trailer were being kept.He missed that damn jeep.He took a step towards one of the windows of the locked up warehouse, wondering if he could see his car inside.

For the first time, someone seemed to notice Stiles. A reedy man in his sixties jogged up to him. “Hey you!Kid!This area isn’t safe, you should head back to town.”  

Stiles noticed one of the ubiquitous white phones attached to the side of one of the warehouses.A couple more curious grown ups were standing near to it, waiting to see what Stiles would do next. Yeah, this wasn’t the way he wanted to see his dad.

“Just curious! Going now!” said Stiles.“Don’t worry!”

“Would you like us to call one of your friends over?” asked the old man.“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Oh no!I’m on my way to meet Jackson now!”Stiles winced.Of all the names to pull out of his head.But luckily the old man just nodded and waved him on.

Stiles quickly retraced his steps back to the strip of businesses before he could be questioned further.And now he felt a bit paranoid.Though the people wandering in and out of the stores seemed happy just to wave at him, he didn’t trust one of them to notice he was alone and go reporting it in. He looked for a way to get off the main drag.

As he passed Deaton’s clinic, Stiles noticed a worn path in the grass along the side of the building.Curious, he followed the unpaved foot path around to a back door.But it didn’t end there.The path cutthrough a narrow strip of grassy yard to where the edge of the woods nestled up to the town.  

To Stiles's excitement the path turned into a trail of sorts just past the dense bushy treeline.Gerard had said that hiking and outdoors activities was part of the whole experience, but none of the teens had thought it a good idea to wander around in the woods.Bears and mountain lions and raccoons and whatever the excuse was. Obviously, they were holding out a bit because this path looked pretty thoroughly wandered.

 Stiles felt a thrill − freedom at last.Maybe he could find a half way private place to be his personal get -away.That would go a long way to making living in this town tolerable.With visions of secret bat-caves and hidden groves teasing his imagination, he jogged out down the quiet trail.

The path wasn’t well paved or graveled like the hiking paths around Merepolk. Most of the time it just beaten line where the reddish earth showed, shiny and smooth, through the undergrowth. Stiles felt the ferns brush and scratch against his calves, leaving wet trails of dew on his jeans up past his knees.At a couple of points the ferns and foxglove seemed to die back leaving nothing but twisted roots and a dense layer of rotting leaves.Then Stiles had to really search to figure out what was path and what was just open ground. Other times the path seemed almost maintained.Flat boulders,like stepping stones, ran inexplicably for about a hundred feet, before the the path narrowed back down to a pencil thin line.Stiles felt like an anthropologist, exploring back through years of use and neglect.

About half an hour later, Stiles felt the first twinges of common sense nagging at his conscience.It occurred to him that, without a map or any markings, he could get seriously lost and end up wandering in circles trying to find the right route back to town. The path branched more than dozen times, trails leading off in random directions.He was thankful that he’d been consistently taking the left hand branch, and could probably retrace his steps but it began to worry him that he hadn’t reached a dead end yet.If all the trails were as long as this one… there were thousands of acres of woods around him.

No this trail had to end at some point.It was here for a purpose.But what?A field?A pond? Highway 299?Man that would be convenient.

Turned out it ended at an old burned out house.

From the blackened bones, Stiles could see that it had once been enormous: a poor-man’s mansion with at least two floors and dozen rooms.The pitted ashy foundation hinted of a basement. The forest had begun to reclaim it in earnest.There were saplings growing through the remnants of a central stairway.Some sort of vine was crawling up the dark broken timbers. It still smelled strongly of barbecue even years after the fact.  

Smack in the middle of what had once been adriveway was a large boulder, with one side smoothed flat. Where everything else was mossy and dirty, the stone was clean of any trace of leaf or lichen.Etched into it were twelve names most of which ended in Hale.There were dates after them, too. Though the first date for each name ranged from the 1930s all the way up to 2004, the last date was always the same:2005.Seven years ago.

Stiles traced his fingers over the name of the baby.

“It was quite the tragedy,” said a voice behind him. Stiles jumped and turned around.There was Crazy Kate staring at the building with a kind of wistfulness. “They were trapped by fallen timbers in the basement. The firefighters found them all huddled up to the door, trying to escape.Clawing their way out, poor things.The smoke eventually got them.The investigators thought it was caused by a leaky propane tank and a spark.”

Stiles swallowed and stepped back as Kate sidled up to the stone.She traced her fingers down the names, a small smile on her face.“I knew them, you know.I’d actually been in the house a few times before it went boom.The Hales were nice people — for what they were, that is.All crowded in that house like dogs in a pile. And the chickens, you never heard the end of them clucking around.They just wandered the property, half wild.If you didn’t watch your feet you were likely to step on an egg.”

“These were Peter’s family,” said Stiles.

“You know, of that whole family, only four survived.Cora and Laura were off in Redding doing chores.And Derek was with me.”The gleam in Kate’s eye made Stiles shudder. “We were making out when he smelled the smoke.Ran all the way back here to see the blaze, not that there was anything _we_ could do.Poor Peter burned himself terribly trying to free his family.Took him years to recover.Did you know that?Werewolves heal slowly from fire.It’s one of the few things they are actually vulnerable to.You should have heard his screams.It was haunting.”

Kate’s starry eyes made it seem like “haunting” meant something disturbingly close to “entertaining.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Stiles.“I mean, sounds like it’s a painful memory.”Not to mention it was thoroughly creeping Stiles out.Especially the soft, thoughtful smile Kate had on her face.

Kate didn’t seem to notice he’d spoken.“Luckily, for them,my family was around to take them in.Derek and Laura, Cora, even poor maimed Peter.Three kids and cripple.They were pretty wild with grief in the beginning, being werewolves and all.”Kate gently stroked the engraved names.“But daddy gentled them nicely.”

Stiles couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“You know, most people find teenagers annoying,” said Kate, turning to him and shining an amazing bright smile.“Especially werewolf teenagers.But I find them cute.And once they are tamed, it turns out they are pretty, darned, useful.” She tapped Stiles cheek with one of her long red claws.The look of speculative lust on her face made Stiles skin crawl.  

“I’m not a werewolf,” said Stiles, quickly backing to out of her reach. Kate had to be 30.Yuck.

“Yet,” said Kate. 

“What are you doing here!” came a new voice.Stiles turned to see Derek, pale faced and furious.“Why’d you bring him here?” he snapped at Kate.

“He brought himself,” said Kate, her expression grew if anything more glowing, as if Derek’s murderous expression pleased her. “Don’t worry, he was being respectful.The boy has a healthy sense of curiosity.I figured I might as well tell him a little of the history of this place.He’d just have gone asking if I hadn’t.” 

Derek turned to Stiles.His expression softened a bit, but still looked pretty terrifying.“You shouldn’t be here.This isn’t a safe place to play.”

Stiles was insulted.“I’m not going to _play_ in someone’s grave.”

Derek jerked his head back.Then looked at the building and his expression turned to sadness.“I’m sorry.I’m just a bit sensitive about this place.”

“Yeah,” said Stiles. “I understand.They were your family.Listen, I’m really sorry for your loss.Truly.”Stiles thought of his own mom and how her death had devastated their small family.He couldn’t imagine the shock of losing twelve loved ones at once.Kate’s little smile seemed all the more obscene.

Derek regarded him for a bit.“Come on, I’ll take you home,” he said after a long silent moment.

Recognizing the inevitable Stiles nodded and they headed back to the path.They were almost to the trees when Kate spoke up.“Oh, Derek, I think you should probably see my father for a session while you are back in town.I know how visiting this place upsets you.”

Derek stiffened.“Understood,” he growled.

* * *

By the time Derek got Stiles back (silently, despite all attempts by Stiles to coax conversation out of him) it was obvious that two things had happened.The first was that Scott had woken up, and the second was that Stiles’s free time was truly over. Scott was sitting on the steps of Stiles's house with a distinctly not-pleased look on his face.  

“Derek,” he said rising up.“I’ll take him, now.” 

“He’s all yours,” said Derek, stonily. “He talks too much, anyway.”With that he turned away and continued down the road towards the lodge.

The moment Derek’s back was turned, Scott turned all his attention on Stiles.“Dude!” he said, anguished.“Where were you?I woke up and you were gone!No one knew where you were!”Scott grabbed both his shoulders and Stiles wasn’t sure if he was going to be hugged or shaken.Apparently Scott wasn’t quite sure either, because he just held him at arm’s length.

“Where could I be?” asked Stiles.“There’s not much here for me to go.”

“No, really, Stiles, where were you?I couldn’t hear you or smell you anywhere.You weren’t in town.I checked with the call center.I searched all over!”

“I was at the burned out house in the woods,” said Stiles.“Kate found me.And Derek. I don’t think they were pleased.”

“You shouldn’t be out in the woods alone,” said Scott, horrified.“It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, bears.”

“And mountain lions,” said Scott.

“I just wanted go for a hike, get a little of the famed fresh air and exercise I was promised.”

Scott raised his brows.“Well, yeah, of course, we can go hiking if you like.Just wait for me.Or have one of the other wolves with you.”

“You know, I’m not a wuss,” said Stiles.“I can defend myself.”

Scott just cocked his head.Then suddenly he twisted Stiles around so that he was facing the road again, one arm looped over his shoulders.“Come on, you want to get some exercise, I’ve got a much better idea.”

“Don’t say lacrosse, because dude, I _suck_ at that game.”

“You just need some practice.I’ll teach you some pointers.It’s really fun once you learn how.”

“Yeah, how good can I be against _werewolves_.”

“Allison holds her own.So does Danny.”

* * *

There was no helping it.When Scott got an idea into his head, there was no arguing with him.Lacrosse it was.Stiles gave up and went with the flow.They stopped by the school long enough to retrieve a couple of lacrosse sticks and balls from the rec room closet.Then Scott took them out past the usual field were they played, around a couple of houses to a smaller clearing completely surrounded by trees.“We’re less likely to be interrupted here,” he said by way of explanation, which Stiles would have believed more if Scott hadn’t stopped on the way there to report in on one of the ubiquitous white phones.

“Okay,” said Scott.“We’ll start with some catching.I’ll throw, you just try to get it in the net.Then you throw back to me.Easy.”And for about half an hour that’s what they did.  

Just as Stiles was starting to feel slightly confident about being able to judge how to wield his stick, Scott switched it up.“Okay, no stick this time, you just try to dodge me.See if you can reach …” he looked around.“That tree, before I can tackle you to the ground.”

“Okay,” said Stiles.“But I have to tell you, I’m a pretty fast runner.These, my man, are _runners_ legs.”He shook them out, limbering himself up for the contest.

“If you say so,” said Scott, amicably.

“Prepare to be dazzled,” said Stiles.

“Go!” said Scott. Stiles took off.He dashed towards the tree, making good time.Out of the corner of his eye, he caught just a glimpse of something and then the next second something big smacked him from behind and he was falling forward onto his face.He threw out his arms to save his teeth from the turf. “Ooof!” he groaned.

Scott remained on his back for a second, then rolled off.“You are fast.”

Stiles rolled over.“Well apparently not as fast as you.What, do you have supernatural speed to go along with the claws and sense of smell?”

Scott shrugged, modestly.

“So unfair,” said Stiles dusting himself off.Scott offered a hand to get him to his feet.The moment Stiles was up he was dashing again towards the tree, not waiting for the word ‘go’ because if Scott was playing dirty, so could he. He almost got there, this time Scott swept an arm around his middle and pulled him back so that he fell on his butt instead of his face.There was Scott grinning down at him with doglike enthusiasm.

Stiles faked out a hand for a helping up, but as soon as Scott took the bait, he pulled hard and wrapped his leg around Scott’s at the same moment.Scott fell over, and in that moment, Stiles was up again, racing the last few feet to the tree.His hand was on it before Scott could get to him a third time.

“That’s cheating,” admonished Scott.

“Like using _werewolf powers_ isn’t?”Stiles patted the tree.“I win.”

“I won the first two times,” said Scott.“Okay, now you need to chase me to… that tree.”He pointed out across the clearing.“Ready, set, go!”Scott took off. 

Stiles raced after him, but Scott was using his wolfy powers again and though sometimes he seemed to slow down enough to tease Stiles, he kept just a tiny bit out of Stiles's reach.

Stiles knew this game.When Scott was almost to the tree, Stiles slowed down as if he were winded. Scott predictably slowed down, too, glancing over his shoulder.Stiles suddenly clutched his chest and leaned forward, pantomiming an asthma attack. Alarmed, Scott immediately ran back, “Hey are you o—“

Stiles grabbed Scott’s arm and pulled him to the ground.“Gotcha!” he called out, laughing.“Oh man, you fell for that one like a tree!”Stiles gloatingly mimicked a tree falling with his arm.

Scott’s mouth opened wide with outrage.“Oh… you… _faker!”_ He scrambled up and a second later Stiles was on his back with Scott sitting on his thighs.“You scared me a moment!”

Stiles laughed.“Ha, you totally deserved it.How am I to win against you if you are faster _and_ stronger than me.A regular dude’s got to do what he can do.”

“So you think you can play dirty against me,” said Scott.

“I _know_ I can play dirty against you.You are such a rube.”Stiles tried to get up but Scott was still sitting on him.“Yo, move.”

“What if I say ‘no’,” said Scott crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then I’ll do … this!” Stiles tried toss him off with his leg muscles, but it seemed that Scott was a lot harder to move than Stiles expected.

Scott raised an eyebrow at the attempt to escape.“You’ll do what?Were you trying to do something?”

“Off of me,” ordered Stiles.“I command you.”

Scott laughed.“You’re not my alpha.I don’t have to take your commands.Say ‘uncle.’”

“Never!” cried Stiles and gave another valiant attempt to wrestle his way out from under Scott.It was successful enough to get Scott off his complacent butt, but not enough to actually get out from under him.Soon he was back on his back again, this time Scott had each of Stiles's wrists in his hands and was holding them to the ground, further pinning him.

“Okay,” said Stiles, admitting defeat.“You are the bigger, stronger, wolfier person. Uncle.”

Scott didn’t move, instead he grinned.“Too late.You should have said uncle the first time.Now I get to keep you here.”

“For how long?”Stiles fought Scotts grip, but not seriously.Scott had an odd but nice smell about him.And suddenly Stiles felt rather turned on by the whole situation.Being held down,groin to butt with a gorgeous guy, getting to feel the muscles in his thighs.This was hitting all his libido buttons.Oh, boy. “How long?” he asked a bit more breathily.

Scott’s expression seemed a lot less playful and a lot more intense.Stiles _knew_ Scott had to feel the boner growing underneath him. The tension between them grew more intense, making Stiles sweat and his nerves jangle with anticipation.“Until I’m satisfied,” Scott murmured seductively.

“And what’s going to satisfy you, Scott?” Stiles could barely catch his breath.He was hard as rock, and every time Scott shifted, Stiles felt his cock being teased.It was all he could do to keep from groaning and bucking into that pressure.

“Well, you could kiss me,” Scott said, shining a glorious smile down at him.

“If I kiss you,” said Stiles,grinning back, “You’ll let me up?”

“Nope.”Scott shook his head.

“And if I don’t kiss you?” asked Stiles, pouting.

“Still nope.”

“You aren’t going to let me up then,” said Stiles.“At all.Ever.”

“Nope,” agreed Scott and leaned down.The next moment his lips were on Stiles, and wow.Oh wow.That felt good!The explosion of lust that went off in Stiles was better than that damn magical egg thing.His brain was _melting_.There wasn’t room anything in his head other than how fucking awesome this was and how much he wanted to rub himself against Scott. Which he did, bucking restlessly up against the hard body, feeling the amazing hard curve of Scotts buttocks slide against his trapped cock.Their lips slipped apart in the thrashing.Then Stiles froze up at the feel of hot breath and teeth nipping neck. Oh my god, he never realized that anything having to do with teeth could possibly feel this good.It was almost too good, too intense.

Stiles twisted and writhed until Scott slid to the side, legs still wrapped around each other.Now Scott was grinding against his thigh and Stiles could totally feel Scotts erection through the layers of denim between them. And Stiles's pants were just too damn tight, pinching him, chafing.“I gotta … I gotta…” He couldn’t find the words to articulate what he had to do.But thankfully he didn’t need words to remember how to unzip and release the uncomfortable pressure. 

Next thing he knew, Scott’s hand was sliding through the open zipper and the slit of his boxers, drawing him out into the fresh cool air.All Stiles could think was that he was being touched where no one had ever touched him before.It was so much more intense, so _sensual_ having it be someone else’s fingers slide down the veiny length than it was his own.

“Oh god, oh god, oh!”Pleasure rocketed up through the roof so fast, Stiles didn’t even have time to warn Scott.He was already exploding, dick fountaining cum in long satisfying jags. Scott leaned down and kissed him.The feel of a hot tongue in his mouth and made the orgasm even more incredible.

Pleasure ebbed down a few moments later, Scott broke the kiss and Stiles finally caught his breath.“Oh my god,” he said, sinking limply back in the soft grass, every muscle loose, drained to the core.“I just came,” he groaned.“You made me come.Oh god, that was awesome.You are, like, the best friend ever.”

Scott smirked down at him, looking indecently satisfied. Then his brows peaked up.“Uh, hey, do you think you could?”He rolled off and got to his knees. Stiles saw the problem, pressing so hard against the fabric of Scotts jeans that he could actually make out the ridge of the head.

“Oh yeah, of course.”Stiles sat up and unzipped Scott’s fly, pulling the cock free so it jutted out.It was fascinated to see an erection that wasn’t either two dimensional or his own.It felt so velvety and warm.Scott just knelt there, knees spread wide for balance, hand pressed against his own flat belly.His hips pressed forward, driving his dripping cock against Stiles's hand.Oh, oh yeah.Stiles hand closed over the hot length and gave it a quick set of tugs, much like he would do with his own.Scott closed his eyes and squinched his face.A moment later he was coming in jets across the grass.He then let himself flop down backwards with a grunt of pure satisfaction.

A dribble of Scott’s cum ran down Stiles's fingers.Without thinking he wiped it off on his own jeans.A second later he realized what he’d done, and then the reality of his sticky situation came home.He’d been way to into his own orgasm at the time to care, but now he was back to himself, he couldn’t ignore that the crotch of his pants and his boxers was gooey and wet with his own discharge, and there was a line of white fluid pointing up his shirt to his face like an accusing finger.  

“Oh shit,” Stiles moaned in horror.“Oh gross!I’ve got jizz all over my clothes.Oh shit, Scott.Why didn’t you tell me?I can’t be seen like this.”Stiles was mortified.

Scott spoke wearily, face still looking smug.“Relax.I’ll take you the back way home.No one is going to see you.”

* * *

True to Scotts word, he lead Stiles unerringly through the fringe of woods that surrounded the back side of the houses. No one saw them and they saw no one. Stiles dignity was still intact when they emerged from the woods into thebackyard of his house and went in through the unlocked patio door. 

Stiles’s Dad still wasn’t home.His dad was never home.

A shower and a change of clothes later, Stiles was ready to actually consider what just happened.He looked over at Scott, who was lying on his bed idly reading one his Superman volumes.

“So …” he said, feeling suddenly very awkward, because he’d just covered a whole lot of new relationship ground in one two minute roll in the grass, and while he’d given lots of thoughts to having sex, tons even, he never really contemplated what happened _afterwards._  

“So,” he began again.“Are we a thing?Is this a thing?Or, like is this going to get you in trouble with Allison? Because, cheating bad. If it is, I won’t tell.I can totally keep a secret.This can be a secret thing.”

Scott just cocked his head incredulously.“No, this is not going to be a secret thing.Werewolves, remember?”He touched his nose. “But don’t worry.I told you that none of us is exclusive.Allison sleeps with who she wants to, and I do the same.Last night she slept with Lydia.”

“So you know that?You, like, smelled them on each other?” Stiles frowned.He still didn’t have a complete handle on all the werewolf senses.Just how much of his personal business was entirely too obvious to the pack?

“No, but she always sleeps with Lydia on full moon nights.”Scott sat up, putting the book on the bed next to him.“Actually,I was kind of surprised you didn’t get on with Danny. I mean, I can tell you find him hot, and I know he was thinking about trying to get you to say yes.What happened there?”

“Yeah,well he really wasn’t in the mood.” Stiles realized that his choice of discussion was probably a large factor in that.Nothing like opening old wounds and painful politics to kill the libido.But in his own defense, he hadn’t even realized that Danny was trying to seduce him.Though now that he thought about it, Lydia, Allison, and for christ’s sake even _Kate_ seemed to think he would.

“Just as well,” said Scott, with palpable smugness.“I was hoping to be your first.”

“Yeah,” said Stiles leaning against his desk. “Oh wow.I’m not a virgin anymore, am I.That counted, right?I mean, I think that totally counted.”

“It totally counted,” Scott agreed.

But Stiles was still thinking of Kate, which really took all the celebration out of the mood.Worse, once he started questioning things, his mind didn’t stop, even when it got to questions that he really didn’t want the answers to. Even _Kate_ seemed to know that Danny and he were going to get it on.Why would she know something like that when Stiles himself didn’t know?Why would Lydia and Allison know, when they were busy with each other?Why, for god sake, would _Scott_ know when he wasn’t even there?  

Stiles pushed away from the desk and started to pace.Was this a conspiracy or something?A conspiracy to deflower the new guy?Why would they even do that?But now that he thought of it, even Dr. Deaton seemed in on it.And oh gross, oh gross.This was wrong.

“You’re thinking something,” said Scott, smile off his face. His nostrils flared. “What’s going on?You seem upset.”

“Did someone put you up to … that, Scott?”Stiles asked, and god that question actually hurt way more than Stiles thought it would.“Were you under some kind of orders to do that to me?”

“What?No,” Scott shook his head.“No.We fooled around because I _wanted_ to fool around with you. And I hope you wanted to, too.”His brows were peaked and he looked almost as upset as Stiles felt.

“What about Danny then.Was Danny under orders?”

“No one was under orders.”

“But maybe it was suggested.Did Gerard suggest it, because, you know, that old guy seems to have a fucking lot to say about who sleeps with who in this town.”Suggestion plus magic egg equals seriously yuck.

Scott hesitated just a second too long.“No, Stiles, listen —“

“What I can’t understand is why?” said Stiles.“Why would Gerard even _care_ if I got laid.”

“It’s not about you getting laid,” said Scott, launching off the bed and grabbing Stiles hands, stopping his pacing.“It’s about being part of the community.It’s aboutmaking you feel like you belong here and you are one of us.You matter to us.”

“What, and you all figured the way to my heart was through my dick? Oh my god!”

“Gerard didn’t tell me to sleep with you, Stiles.He didn’t tell Danny to,” said Scott firmly.“I wish you were a wolf because then you could tell that I’m telling you the truth.Everyone knows about the sleeping part because… I guess you can say, it’s part of our culture.It would be weird if no one asked you out.This isn’t some game to get you.It’s just … I don’t know, the way we are.The way we do things.”

“So, I see,” said Stiles, incredulous.“It would have been _rude_ if no one offered to take my virginity.”

Scott nodded relieved that Stiles seemed to get it.“Yeah, exactly.But you picked me first and that means a lot to me.”Scott smiled happily again.It really didn’t take much to put the dude back into a good mood.“Don’t be mad?” he asked.

Stiles sat down heavily on his bed. This town was so freaking weird what was a little aggressive free love?He really had to just toss all his expectations out the window.It was another _world_ in Beacon Hills.A parallel universe.“So wait, why Danny?Why you?Why not Erica? Do I really come off as _that_ gay?”

“Yeeeah,the nose doesn’t lie,” said Scott, squinting.“We can tell who turns you on.Erica wasn’t doing it for you.”

“Well, maybe if she stopped bopping me on the head every time I tried to get friendly….”Stiles rubbed his face.“Ah man, Scott.What are we going to do here?”

“What we usually do?”Scott looked perplexed.“I don’t really get the problem.”

 _Four years,_ Stiles would have to remember that.Scott had been under Gerard’s creepy influence since he was twelve.Stiles vaguely wondered what sort of person Scott would have been if he hadn’t been brainwashed for a quarter of his life.If they had met under other circumstances would they even be friends?Scott just patted his back looking sympathetic through awkward.Not even a clue.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the chapter where the discussion of suicide comes in, so heads up if you are sensitive to that subject.

* * *

 

As it turned out, having sex changed just about nothing.Once Stiles got over his mortification that his private business was instant public knowledge, he found it disappointing and annoying how little it mattered.Losing one’s virginity was supposed to be a big deal.A life changer.He was a _man_ now.Experienced!Surely something should be different.

But it wasn’t.None of the other kids treated him differently.Not even Scott, who was exactly as clingy and possessive as he’d been before their tumble. Erica still liked to slap him on the ass at unexpected times, and Boyd still made like a statue. Isaac ignored him and Allison was vaguely nice. Lydia didn’t seem to care at all.Even Danny’s sole acknowledgment was to give him a thumbs up and a nod.  

Jackson was the only one who openly spoke about it.“About fucking time,” was all he said.“Come see me when you have a few more notches under your belt.”He then got up from his chair and moved off before Stiles could even think of a response.

Scott closed in, taking Jackson’s chair.His nostrils flared and for just a moment Stiles wondered if he was jealous.But no it was just the freaking wellness training rearing its head again.“Did Jackson upset you?” he asked.

“No,” said Stiles, still feeling baffled.“I think he might have propositioned me.Maybe.”

“Oh,” said Scott, face clearing up.“Yeah, he did.He’s just waiting for you to get a bit more experienced.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t trust that you’d see how great he is unless you’ve already had a basis for comparison.He’s really stupidly competitive, but whatever.We get the benefit, so might as well let him do his thing.”

“No I mean, why would he even want to sleep with me.He doesn’t _like_ me.”

Now Scott looked surprised.“Of course he likes you.We all like you.You are one of us!”

Egg talk.Stiles sighed.Though that reminded him:“So Scott.What is that egg thing.How long has Gerard had it?”

Scott leaned back.“Since before my time.At least seven, eight years ago.I remember Deaton telling me that that’s how he met Gerard.He’d come hunting after that egg, worried that if it fell into the wrong hands that it might be too dangerous. But by the time he caught up with it, Gerard had the egg.Dr. Deaton was pretty relieved to see it was in good hands after all.Then Deaton stuck around and taught Gerard how to be a white mage, so that Gerard could use the egg for good instead of evil.The two of them had these ideas of making Beacon Hills a place for people to come and heal and be safe from natural and supernatural dangers. But it wasn’t until after Peter woke up from his coma and joined in, that they got down to actually making it.”  

“So really, Deaton thought it was a _good_ idea for Gerard to have that egg?”Stiles didn’t believe it for a moment.

Scott suddenly frowned and looked puzzled.“Strange…” he said.“I was just a kid back then, so I might not be remembering things exactly right.”

“What do you think you don’t remember.”Stiles felt a tingle of excitement.

“Well,” said Scott slowly.“It’s totally nuts, but I think maybe Deaton and I might have tried to take the egg away from Gerard once, like four years ago. But that doesn’t really seem right.I mean, why would I do that?”

“Oh,” said Stiles straightening up.“No idea at all.”

“Yeah, I know, right.Weird.Maybe that was a dream or something. Confusing.Anyway, after that Gerard decided it would be better if I hung out with Peter rather than Dr. Deaton.We’d just lost Alpha Laura and Peter needed three betas to make a proper pack, so I took the bite.And that was that.” Scott shrugged, smiling again.  

That certainly was that, thought Stiles.

* * *

On Monday, a week and a half after the full moon, the unthinkable happened again.Scott was on “patrol” that night and, for some unknown reason, no one else stepped up to Stiles’s side after he left.  

Allison and Lydia were sitting together in the rec center, deep into some discussion about “style” and “looks” that involved fondling each other’s hair.It was distracting, but not exactly welcoming to a dude whose hair had never been more than six weeks out of a buzz cut.Meanwhile, Jackson and Danny had made such a thinly veiled excuse to go off together that Stiles felt himself blush.That left only Erica, Boyd and Isaac who all decided that the most awesome way to spend a rainy Monday afternoon was to hone their fighting skills.They got all hairyed up and left to wrestle in the drenched lacrosse field. Stiles had decided long ago that he was a lover not a fighter (though until four days ago “lover” had been entirely academic) and getting in the middle of a muddy, bloody werewolf brawl was not his idea of “smart”.

So Stiles left. No one stopped him.Either they’d forgotten his existence, or they just thought it was someone else’s job to be his minder.In any case, there he was, splashing all alone down the street as gloomy twilight settled prematurely over the town.  

He was completely on his own recognizance for the first time since the full moon. He could go anywhere!Do anything!As long as it involved getting completely soaked with only a hoodie to ward off the chill, mild though it was.He didn’t even have a flashlight.Suddenly hiking in the woods, with all it’s promise of knee-high mud, lost its appeal.Re-exploring the town didn’t seem much better.

So, home it was.

 The first thing Stiles noticed was that the lights in his house were on. This was a surprise because the rare times he’d been at home, Stiles’s Dad had always, always been gone.Oh, there would be little signs of him here or there.Dirty clothes in a hamper.Toothbrush left out on the vanity.A plate in the sink.A chore list.And there was always a note on the refrigerator: _Working a call shift.Having dinner with Chris.Down at the clinic with Melissa. Helping with inventory at Warehouse 6.All night training session!_ It seemed like Gerard was running his dad ragged.Sometimes he was out past curfew and slept somewhere else, but even when he did manage to be home alone on a day Stiles was there, by the time Stiles was able to free himself from whatever companion was leeching on to him, his dad had already retired to his room to sleep.

But today, when Stiles walked in the door, there was his dad, looking fit and slim and awake.He was sitting in the arm chair in the living room, reading the contents of a three ring binder and smiling with contentment.

He looked up as Stiles cautiously approached.“Hey kid, long time no see.”

 “Yeah.Really long time Dad.Wow, you’ve lost weight.”He approached his father slowly, as if afraid that if he broke the spell something would happen to separate them again.“Looking good.”

His dad beamed a smile at him.“That’s what fresh air, exercise, and no booze will get you.”

“No booze?Seriously?”Stiles felt a giddy lightness in his chest.“That’s awesome.”

 “Nope. I haven’t had a drink since I got here, Stiles.Haven’t needed one.”But then John’s smile faded.He tilted his head.“How have youbeen.You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Stiles wiped his face, searching for words.“It’s just … God,Dad, it’s been so long since I’ve _seen_ you.Not even at the seminars.I was getting worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy lately. Gerard’s been working one on one with me, so I haven’t been to the seminars.There is so much going on here, you wouldn’t believe it. I’ve been training to use all kinds of weapons, things I never even _seen_ before.There’s all kinds of tactics.Reminds me of my days as a police cadet. You know, I thought I knew my job, but being a Hunter really adds this whole _dimension_ to police work that I never even considered before.”

As he spoke, Stiles noticed a bandage peaking out from the checked sleeve on his shirt. And not one of those tiny band-aids. He rushed to his dad’s side and turned the arm over.“You’re _hurt_!”

“I’m fine.”John tugged his arm away then gave Stiles a friendly pat on the shoulder.“It’s just a cut.All stitched up.Nothing serious.Where’s Scott?”

“Patrol,” said Stiles.Suddenly the words that Stiles had been practicing in his head for days came back.“Dad.Doesn’t it strike you that things are going a bit too fast?I mean, I get that you are happy, but we just got here barely three weeks ago and now you are all training to be one of them.It seems so permanent. We’re just here to get over … mom, aren’t we?”  

Stiles winced, waiting to see his reaction.Mentioning mom at all was a touchy subject.On a bad day, even eluding to Claudia would put his dad in a funk that took hours to pass.During those hours things got scary.But this time John just smiled, and Stiles let out his breath.

“We are.But look at us:I miss your mom like crazy, but I’m not falling apart over her anymore. I think it’s this place that’s doing that.I’m busy, I have a purpose.And you look _great_ Stiles.Less nervous.More focused.You even have a kind of glow about you.Do you and that Lydia girl have something going?I heard you went to a party with her.”

Stiles got a weird nervous vibe.What kind of information had these people been feeding his dad?Not that he wanted his dad to hear gossip about his sex life, but he liked it even less if they were feeding his dad misinformation.  

“No, me and Lydia are not.Anything.Well, we’re friends, but no.I mostly hang out with Scott.”He was not going to mention that he and Scott were fuck buddies.He’d never actually gotten around to coming out to his dad, what with the whole pressure-cooker atmosphere back in Merepolk.It’d been academic anyway. And now he had other things he’d rather talk about.

“Scott’s a good kid,” said John, over Stiles’s thoughts.“I like him. Gerard has a really high opinion of him.”

Stiles nodded.Gerard _would_. But that wasn’t what Stiles wanted to talk about either.

“Dad,” he broached.“About that trip to Redding.Remember, you said that after a week we could go have lunch together.”Stiles knew the trip wouldn’t happen.But maybe if they tried, his dad would see just what a predicament they were in.Maybe he wouldn’t be so damn cooperative with Gerard’s agenda.“What do you think about doing that.We could make it dinner instead of lunch it wouldn’t interfere with school or anything.”

John leaned back in the chair, his hands flopping on the manual in his lap.“Yeah, I remember promising you a trip to Redding.But Stiles I can’t.I’m just way too busy for that.I’ve got to get this book read, then I’m meeting Peter for dinner and after that I’m going out on patrol with him tonight.And I just can’t see taking another road trip any time soon. Tell you what, I can take you to lunch at the cafe they have here in Beacon Hills.Have you been there yet?They have fries.”

Fries did sound good.But not good enough to change the subject.“I thought that the Hunters did the day patrols and the Wolves did the night ones.”

“Hunters work nights as well.And it’s important that I be able to pitch in any time I’m needed.”

A flash of realization went through Stiles like an electric shock.He actually jumped.“Wait, Dad.You are going on patrol with Peter.Do you know — you _do_ know what he is, right?”

John gave Stiles that “oh come on,” look. “Yes, I know that Alpha Peter is a werewolf.”

“You do?” Stiles squeaked.“And that… that doesn’t _bother_ you?I mean, I told you weeks ago something was going on here and you acted like it was nothing but crystals and wishful thinking.”

“Well, it would be pretty hard to maintain that belief given the amount of evidence,” said John, completely unfazed.

“Dad!” said Stiles, his voice rising to a strangled shriek.“If you know all that…how is it you can stay so calm.I mean, we are living in a town full of monsters and you are okay with that?”

That wiped the smile off of John’s face.“Stiles, I thought I raised you better than that.These aren’t ‘monsters’.They are our friends.After all the lectures you’ve given me about being broad minded and sensitive, I can’t believe you’d say anything so bigoted.Is that what you think of Scott?”

Stiles felt his face burn.“Okay, I’m sorry. They aren’t monsters.They are lycanthropically inclined.But that doesn’t change the fact that they are _using_ you, Dad.”

“Stop, Stiles,” said John, warning heavy in his voice.

 “—Manipulating you.Brainwashing you --”

“Stop!”Sharper.

 “That egg--”

“—That egg is what’s keeping me from eating my gun!” John spoke with deadly seriousness.“And if you don’t want to be a goddamn orphan, you’ll leave it alone.”

Time stopped.Silence hung on between them for what seemed like forever.Even the sound of the rain seemed to fade away.Suddenly Stiles’s eyes stung and his chest felt too tight to breathe.His stomach clenched with sick horror.A tiny sick noise, more of a hiccup than word emerged from Stiles’s mouth.

“Stiles,” his dad said, “Leave it.”

Words finally came back.“I will,” he said, turning his eyes away, looking anywhere but his dad. “I don’t.I’m sorry.So sorry.” _Please don’t kill yourself.Please don’t kill yourself_.

“I’m happy and we are staying here,” said John, firmly.“No trips to Redding.No talk of leaving.You are going to learn in school, have friends, and we are all going to be alright.We are finally going to get past this.We’re healing.This is healing us.”

 “Yeah, dad.You are right.You are totally right.We’ll be fine.”Stiles trembled, more terrified than he’d ever been in his life.Tears ran down his cheeks.He couldn’t stop them.  

Then the mood passed like a dark cloud. John was himself again.Not as upbeat as before, but normal enough that Stiles could recognize him.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his face.“Jesus.I’ve never meant to lay that on you.I didn’t want you knowing.You’re grieving, too, and the last thing I need to do is make you carry my burdens as well.”

“It’s not like I didn’t know,” said Stiles, softly.“I knew, dad.I always knew.And if this place is what you need, then we’re staying here.End of matter.”

John put the manual aside and got up. Before Stiles could react he was engulfed in a hard hug.“Thank you, Stiles.Thank you for understanding.”

* * *

Stiles went to his room, leaving John to finish his manual before going to Peter’s.He tried reading one of his comic collections, but even though he’d read it before, he couldn’t seem to make sense of the dialogue and the action seemed meaningless.His head kept running past the same words over and over and over again. _“That egg is keeping me from eating my gun.”_ And his reply, _“I always knew.”_

He had.It had always been there, a terror so chilling that never, not even in Stiles’ head, did he voice it, lest it become real.But it was there every time he found his father asleep with an empty bottle next to him and his unholstered gun on the bathroom vanity. Every time Stiles had tried to ply him with food only to have his dad look sadly down at his plate.Every time a neighbor snubbed them, or work got rough and John had gotten that far away look in his eye.That dark possibility had loomed close enough that Stiles ached with it.  

His only recourse was to make sure that John could never forget that he existed and that he needed him.He’d clung to his dad.Tried to be the good son.Learned to cook, clean, keep up his grades, never get in trouble.Tried even to do his dad’s work for him.Anything to take the pressure off and keep that gun in its holster.  

And now in Beacon hills it was all flipped over.Gerard’s egg was doing what Stiles never could.His father was safe and happy and Stiles was getting to have a life again. For all the creepiness, the pressure _had_ been lifted off of Stiles. He _had_ been happy.

It was wrong, all wrong, but it was so much better than the alternative.

_Eat my gun._ There was no denying it or hiding from it or pretending it wasn’t as bad as Stiles knew it was.Those three words had done more to bind him to Beacon Hills than the sex, or the friendship, or even the egg could have.

I can’t run away, Stiles finally acknowledged.For better or worse, Beacon Hill’s problems were his problems.He was one of them now. God help him.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.His dad.Probably going to apologize some more.Maybe if Stiles was chatty enough he could stop that.  

He wiped the tears from his face, schooled his expression and opened the door, but instead of John there stood _Jackson_ of all people.“Hello?” said Stiles.

 “Your Dad’s gone to Peter’s” said Jackson stepping past Stiles.“I’m supposed to stay with you.”His voice was carefully neutral.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, another handler.At least he wasn’t pretending to be something else.But, God, the last thing Stiles needed right now was to put up with Jackson’s douchiness and resentment.As if he didn’t have enough on his plate.  

“You don’t have to stay with me,” said Stiles, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.“You can go back and hang with Danny.” _Please go away,_ he tried to telegraph.

“Yeah, I do.”Jackson ignored his look and sat down on the end of Stiles bed, looking muscular and immovable.“None of us thinks you should be alone right now.It’s not safe.”

“Safe?What trouble could I get into, all alone in my house?”  

The plains of Jackson’s oh-so-perfect face hardened into a look of concern and Stiles got it.Oh god, were they afraid that his dad’s little reveal might make _him_ suicidal?They were _way_ off track!He had to be strong, didn’t they see? He had to step up to the plate and keep things together, no matter how hard it was.He and his dad couldn’t _both_ fall apart.  

“I’m perfectly safe,” said Stiles asearnestly as he could.As a wolf, Jackson would know it was the truth.“I’m not going to do anything to myself.”

Jackson relaxed a little but didn’t budge.“Well that’s good.But I’m still staying, so get used to me.”

Stiles groaned.“Why?”

“Why not.”

“Because you hate me?”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed.“No, I don’t.Listen, I don’t like that you act all superior to us because you know what the outside world is like and we don’t.I don’t appreciate being called a monster — yeah, I know what you think about me.But I don’t hate you.You’re my brother, like Scott and Boyd are my brothers.We’re family and we take care of each other.”

Family that sleeps together.Oh yay, now Stiles was feeling incestuous for having taken that tumble with Scott.Still, much as Stiles wanted to, he couldn’t help but feel a little douchey himself for calling Jackson a monster.It wasn’t like Jackson had a choice about being a werewolf.Or really anything.Even hanging with him.

“So, do you hate me?” Jackson crossed his arms in front of his chest.“I know you judge the fuck out of me.Which I don’t mind, because unlike you, I’m not insecure about myself.But do you hate me?Because that I have a problem with.”

Stiles wasn’t sure he believed Jackson.Secure people didn’t overcompensate to the crazy extent that Jackson did.But he let that pass.He slouched forward and rested his head in his hands.“No, I don’t hate you. I don’t hate any of you. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel anymore.”

Jackson smiled.“That’s easy.You are supposed to feel happy.Come on. You don’t have anything fun to do here.Let’s go to my house. Mom will feed us and I’ll teach you how to play pool.”

* * *

So that is how Stiles ended up in Jackson’s den, a pool cue in his hand, and Jackson hovering at his back, holding his arm in position.“Yeah, yeah, relax your elbow.Stop over thinking the aim.You aren’t at the level of doing trick shots.Worry more about the amount of thrust you plan to give.” Stiles bent far over the edge of the table and was _very_ aware of Jackson practically lying on top of him.The position was more than a little suggestive and if Stiles had been in anything like a normal mood, he’d probably be showing an embarrassing amount of appreciation for the feel of Jackson’s muscles up against his side.

He felt Jackson sniff in his ear.Keeping track of his mood, Stiles knew, but turned out ears were pretty sensitive and all that soft talking and snuffing in them was tickling in a really, really nice way.And it didn’t help that when Jackson wanted to be, he was damn charming.The way he bathed you in attention wasn’t quite so clingy and possessive as the way Scott did, but every bit as intense.Stiles couldn’t help but feel flattered by it.Which in turn was making the way Jackson’s hand slid down his forearm … nggh.

Jackson sniffed again and Stiles could actually feel his smile against the side of his face.“Get a bit more practice and I’ll let you use my other cue.”

Oh my god, so corny.But still unff!Weak knees time.It was hard to keep track of the damn ball when all he could think about was what it would be like to be fucked against the hard, smooth side of the pool table.

To Stiles disappointment Jackson stepped back, releasing him to make his shot.Which he did.And by some miracle the cue ball hit the blue ball which then banked off the side and dropped neatly into the corner pocket.Stiles was so distracted by his unexpected triumph that he forgot to be lustful.“Oh yay!” he said.“I did it!”

“You did.Keep practicing and maybe you’ll be good enough to challenge me.Go for the yellow ball next.”

Stiles was lining up the shot when the door opened and someone stepped in.He glanced up expecting it to be Jackson’s mom again.But instead he saw the stooped form of Gerard standing in the doorway.He was smiling and looking pleased.  

“Hey there, Jackson.Sorry to interrupt the fun, but I thought I’d check in on Stiles. I heard he had a rough afternoon.”

Stiles, who had actually forgotten about his predicament for a moment, now felt it settle back in.An electric rush of fear washed over him and he tightened up, wary of what Gerard might want.His stomach clenched sickly around the pork chop Jackson’s mother had fed him.

Gerard’s nostrils flared momentarily and Stiles knew there was no point in trying to pretend he was okay. “Don’t be scared, Stiles.I’m not going to hurt you.The opposite in fact.Your dad just told me and Peter all about your situation.He’s really concerned about you, kiddo.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to be,” said Stiles.“I’m fine.Truly.Jackson can tell you.I’m not going to do anything that will make my father worry about me, and as long as he wants to be here, I’m cool with it. I’ll be your faithful whatever it is you want me to be.Wolf.Mage.Whatever. You win.I’m all yours.”

“Hmm,” said Gerard, settling down on the overstuffed arm of a nearby couch and looking thoughtful.“You know with most kids your age I have to tell them to be responsible.Stop goofing off and get the job done.But that’s not really your problem, is it, son?You’ve gone the opposite direction.Grown up a bit too fast. I believe you’re willing to sacrifice whatever you need to in order to keep your dad safe.You’ll walk through hell for him.”

Stiles tightened his jaw but nodded.They understood each other.

Gerard cocked his head.“Believe it or not, I appreciate what what it takes for you to offer yourself like this.But Stiles, I don’t need your sacrifice.What I need you to do is to let it _go_.Stop worrying about your father and think about yourself instead.One day soon you’ll be a man and you will have all the responsibilities you should have.But for now, you need to let down your guard and let the rest of us carry that load for you.Be a kid again.Can you do that son?”

Stiles nodded.If that was what Gerard wanted, that’s what he got.Anything to keep his dad alive.

“Good,” said Gerard standing up again.“Come over here, I think we both know what you need.Jackson, if you wouldn’t mind, help settle him in the couch.” 

Stiles bristled to feel Jackson’s hand against his arm, pushing him forward.This was totally unnecessary. He knew what was coming.He’d vowed not to fight it.Couldn’t they tell that?With all their wolfy senses, it seemed to him that his submission should be obvious.He pulled away and walked over to the couch and sat primly in it.

“I think maybe this time it will take, if you let it,” said Gerard.“Lie back.Relax all your muscles, you are tight as a drum.Relax.You’ve done this before.You know it’s not going to hurt.”

Stiles stiffly lay back, so that his feet were pointed towards Gerard.His eyes itched and stung and the muscles in his face hurt.He stared at the ceiling and tried not to notice the old man was pulling something from his pocket.  

“Just do it,” he said.

“Before I treat you, Stiles, I want you to imagine yourself as being happy.Imagine that you are a normal kid in a new town who has made a bunch of new friends.Imagine that your father has a new job that he loves.He has friends and feels good about himself.Are you picturing that?”

Stiles nodded, trying. It was pretty close to reality.

“Your only job is keep your teachers happy and your friends happy and yourself happy.Your dad’s _not_ your responsibility.You can accept that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then lets do this for real this time.Don’t fight it, give into it, let go.”Gerard stepped into Stiles view and leaned over him.The egg loomed large in his hand.Stiles felt a prickle of heat coming from it, as though it were emanating some kind of radiation.Then it touched his lips and — 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**PART 2**

“Imagine that this is an unbroken protective line,” said Harris, boredly.“Feel the power coming up from your middle, down your arm, through your hand and into the dust.Stiles, does that really look like a circle to you?”

Stiles looked down at the line of bark dust he was spreading over the gym floor.His “circle” was more of an amoeba than a regular figure, but hey, as long as the two ends closed, did it really matter? Inside the circle Scott sat, arms loosely wrapped around his knees, waiting patiently.He nodded encouragingly.Stiles let the last of the dust flow out of his hand and “willed” like he was taught.The dust surged briefly with light and then died back down. 

Scott got up and took a step forward, testing the boundary.He stopped as if he’d hit a wall.Then he tried again, grunting and obviously putting more force into it, and once more he made no headway.“It’s good,” he called out, with a thumbs up.

Harris almost seemed disappointed.“Natural talent, I guess,” he muttered.“Okay, break the line and sweep it back up into the jar.You two can go to lunch.”He turned around and saw Danny furtively fussing with his dust line using the side of his shoe.“Danny!Use your will, not your foot!”Erica yawned from inside the circle and made a glance at the clock.

“Ahem,” said Scott.

“Oh!”Stiles slid his foot through the line and broke the spell.“Sorry dude.Distracted.”

“S’okay.”Scott got the broom and dustpan, but it was Stiles who had to sweep the finely ground wood shavings back into the large plastic bin it had come from. As a wolf, Scott couldn’t touch the stuff.One of the weird werewolf vulnerabilities.

“You know,” Stiles said idly. “This stuff is pretty handy.I should keep some in my pocket.I could totally draw a line around you all during lacrosse and then the ball would be all mine.”

Scott clicked his tongue.“That wouldn’t be any fun.And besides, like we’d just stand there and let you.”

Stiles picked up the heavy bin of bark dust and brought it back to table.“I could totally put it down while you all were putting on your equipment.You’d never know.Start the game and bam!Stuck werewolves.Stiles wins.”

Scott just grinned.“Putting aside the fact that I can smell this stuff _really easily_ , if you closed a circle without me in it, I’d be stuck _outside_ not in.Cheater Stiles gets his ass kicked.”

Stiles considered.“Okay, so maybe that’s not practical.Actually, what is this used for?”

“We put it around anything we don’t want to be messed with during the full moon.Buildings, the crops, the houses.It keeps us wolves from being too destructive.I mean, normally we stay in the woods, but no one wants to count on that.And Boyd’s only been a wolf for four moons, so he hasn’t really had a chance to find an anchor or learn his limits yet.The first year of being a wolf is the hardest when it comes to self-control.”

“So, your self control is pretty good then,” said Stiles.“You’ve been a wolf for what, three — three and a half years?”

“About that long.And yeah. I haven’t gone out of control in years.Not that you should come looking for me during the full moon.But if I ever have to turn beta to keep you safe, I won’t hurt you.” He frowned.“Just if anything gets hairy, try to avoid Boyd.”Stiles glanced across the room to where Boyd and Jackson were chilling out at the lunch tables.He couldn’t imagine Boyd being out of control.The dude was a total rock.Ah well, just showed, even after almost three months, how little he still knew about this place and how everything worked.

He clapped the last of the dust off his hands.“Well, so much for my first spell. _Petronus_ would be so much cooler.”

“Ash duty is important, and by the way, you were good enough that you are totally going to be put on marking the perimeter next Sunday.”

_Next Sunday,_ thought Stiles.This would be the third full moon since he and his Dad had come to Beacon Hills.Things were both so different now, and yet so much the same.Day by day there really wasn’t much change.The wellness seminars chugged along.If the weather was half-way decent they played lacrosse, which Stiles was finally good enough to hold his own at.If it sucked, he played pool, or cards, or wii sports, depending on who was hanging around.

That is when they got free time at all.Fully half the time they were sucked into a community project — weeding gardens, making paths, cleaning, painting, mowing, raking. Always as a group, with maybe one or two of them pulled away by Peter or Chris for some other venture.One thing for certain, Stiles was kept busy.He hadn’t had time to miss his tv shows, though he still longed for the internet. How he missed just being able to look up information with Google instead of asking someone and hoping they’d tell him.

In school the only real difference between September and November was that Harris had added thaurmaturgy lessons to their normal science and math fair.Stiles could now identify by sight twelve different species of wolfsbane, and knew the difference between mountain ash,dogberry, and whitebeam.But putting a line around Scott had been the first actual magic he’d practiced.Like all milestones in this town, it was going pretty much entirely unremarked by anyone.Yay.

Stiles sighed, then caught a whiff of something good and food-like as the metal doors in the back of the cavernous room opened. “Mmm, something smells yummy.Gonna wash my hands before I try to eat, because dirt’s not so tasty.Be right back.”Without waiting for a response, he ducked into the bathroom.  

When he came out, he noticed that Scott and Lydia were standing in the middle of the gym with Harris and Peter.The other kids were hovering nearby but didn’t seem to be part of the conversation. There were a lot of grim looking expressions, which was weird enough to give Stiles an uncomfortable prickling sensation in his stomach. Had someone been injured?Died?Who?

As Stiles approached, Scott nodded, then Peter turned around and left the room with the rest of the wolves and Allison in tow. Stiles noted the muscles in Scotts cheek hardening as he stared at their backs.Stiles closed the distance at a jog. “What’s up?Is everything okay?”

“Someone’s been wandering around the woods near by,” said Scott, pensively.The doors clanged shut and then he turned to look at Stiles with a heave of his shoulders.

“Someone not from town?” asked Stiles, knowing that, duh, that’s what Scott meant.“So, what, I guess there might be hikers from time to time.We are right next to Trinity National Forest.”

Scott nodded.“Yeah, we get hikers every now and then, especially in summer.Usually it’s not a big a deal.But this person’s been casing our land repeatedly over the last eight months.He’s come as far in as the edge of town.He’ll go away for a couple weeks or a month and then come back again.But somehow no one has ever laid eyes on him.It’s not normal.”

“He?” asked Stiles.Could wolves smell gender?

“He peed against a tree.But that’s the thing.He’s walked, like, right past our hunters bunches of times.I don’t know how he does it. Isaac once followed his scent in circles around the woods until he literally fell asleep from exhaustion, but he never quite caught up with him. That’s the closest any of us have been to this guy.Usually the scent trail is hours or days old by the time we find it and he’s long gone again.Anyway, we are going to try do a dragnet.Circle and catch.”

“And what happens if we catch him?”

“We figure out why he’s here, tell him he’s on private lands and we take trespassing seriously.”  

Stiles remembered the dirt he’s seen ground into Derek-the-Enforcer’s shirt the day he’d arrived.A shudder ran through him. “But what if he’s just a researcher and, like, looking for endangered birds or something?”

Scott shrugged.“Then it’s Gerard’s call.I suppose we might give him an escort,or keep an eye out for what he’s looking for.There is no way he’d be allowed to come near our town, and he’s getting far too close.But Stiles, we’re pretty sure he’s not a researcher.”

“Well, okay then,” said Stiles, sucking in a deep breath.“Sooo… when do we go join the dragnet.”He’d never been on a dragnet, but it sounded heaps more interesting than reading _Finnegans Wake._

“We don’t,” said Scott, sniffing the air. “We get lunch.”

Stiles felt hot with indignation.“What, we aren’t going to help?Everyone else gets to go and not us?That is so unfair.”

Scott just shrugged. “We’ll get our chance some other time.Besides, look, not everyone has gone. Danny and Lydia are still here.”Danny and Lydia emerged from the kitchen as if on cue.Good smells followed them. Scott’s nose twitched and he started walking towards the kitchen.Stiles had no recourse but to follow him if he wanted to continue the conversation.

“Okay, I can see why the three of us might be left behind.We’re lame-ass ‘helpers.’”Stiles drew the quotation marks with his fingers.“But why not you then.You’re a wolf.Oh, it’s chicken tacos!”Stiles was momentarily distracted by Danny’s plate as they passed it.

“I gotta stay here and protect you,” said Scott.

“Oh, come on!Seriously? I’m not going to get into trouble sitting on my fat ass, eating tacos!”

“It’s not you,” Lydia called over her shoulder. “It’s me.Scott’s here to protect me.”She turned around and gave him a modest shrug.“You aren’t worth anything yet, but keep showing off your mad magic skills to Harris and that’ll change.”  

Scott pushed Stiles on into the kitchen and then dropped a tray into his arms while Stiles thought of how to react to that.It felt like real information.The kind that Scott, buddy though he was, hated for Stiles to find out about.See, this is what he loved about Lydia.She might insult him, but she was also straight with him, which was a damn rare trait in Beacon Hills.

“Is that true?” Stiles finally asked, after thanking the lunch lady for the food.

“No!” said Scott, scowling.“You are worth a lot to me.”

Stiles refused to be taken off point.“But not like Lydia,” he pressed.“She’s really important for some reason.Her own personal guard in time of trouble important.I mean, that’s why you used to try to keep me away from her and all.”Stiles barely noticed the cook putting three tacoson his tray.“Is it because she’s immune to the egg?’

“Who told you that?” Scott said, sharply.

“Lydia did — Dude you were, like, right next to me when she told me,” said Stiles.“You got mad at her and everything.”

“Oh,” said Scott his face clearing.“I forgot. But no, it’s not that.Lydia’s a seer,” said Scott, taking his food and nudging Stiles back to the room that served as both a gym and a cafeteria.“She gets visions.It’s a really rare gift.A _lot_ of people would want to use her.So we protect her when strangers come poking around.”

“If she’s a seer, why can’t she tell you where this intruder is,” asked Stiles.He sat down next to Lydia.“No offense.”

“None taken, and what makes you think I didn’t,” she replied back.She flipped her hair back and gave him an ironic smile.“Or did you think I ran out of last class because I didn’t want my hands to get dirty.Oh!I see you didn’t even notice me gone.And here I thought you liked me.”

Stiles face blushed hard.“I — I do, sorry, I.I actually did notice.I just.”

“Oh calm,” said Lydia.“I’m pulling your leg.Besides, I’m creeped out enough today without you doing the spaz dance on me.”

Scott leaned across the table and grabbed her hand. His face was just _painted_ with concern.It seemed almost comical, but Stiles had long since learned that Scott was deadly serious about his worrying.“Are you okay?”

Lydia shook her head.Her eyes went distant. “I don’t know.I saw the three mile point, super clear, so I know that’s where he is, or was, or will be.But I just can’t shake this feeling that I’m missing something important. Something to do with Deaton.And it’s really pissing me off that I don’t know what.” She looked down at the remnants of the taco as if it offended her.Danny put a hand on her shoulder, to reassure her.

* * *

A few minutes later the door on the far side of the Gym opened up again and Stiles turned around to see Doctor Deaton striding up to them.Well there was the second part of Lydia’s vision, thought Stiles pensively.The doctor looked grim but determined.

Scott stood up.“Is everything okay?What’s the word?”

“They caught someone,” said Deaton, giving them a tense smile. “Right by marker three.Thanks Lydia.Chris radioed in to say that he was confused and scared but cooperating.But that’s actually not why I’m here.”

Scott relaxed.Lydia, to Stiles surprise didn’t.“Why are you here?” she asked.

Deaton looked grim again.“They don’t think he’s alone—”

Scott tensed up so hard he went to attention.“What!?”

Deaton raised a hand.“ _And_ , more importantly I think I know how he and his group have been eluding us.”He took a breath.“Has Harris taught you anything about fairy dust, yet?”

Scott groaned.“Not that stuff.Gives me headaches.”

Lydia and Danny looked just as baffled as Stiles felt.“Fairy dust?” asked Danny.

“It’s a method of temporarily disorienting a person,” said Deaton. “The effects don’t last long, but cast in the air behind you and anyone trying to follow your trail will become confused and lost.It also messes with concentration, gives you a bit of a buzz, and has a mild hallucinogenic effect.”He paused.

“Is there a way to protect yourself from it?” asked Stiles.

“Yes, there is.As with every magical substance, it contains it’s own antidote.If I mix it with rowan leaf ash, I can make each of our hunters and wolves a sachet to wear around their necks.It will render the fairy dust inert.”

“That’s awesome,” said Scott.“Let’s go make some sachets.”

“Well, it would be,” said Deaton, suddenly looking sheepish.“If I had any fairy dust. _Someone_ has been stealing the supply from my closet.”He looked rather pointedly at Scott.

Scott’s mouth dropped open with indignation.“I so did not have anything to do with that.I swear, it wasn’t me.It wasn’t any of the teens.I don’t think they know about the stuff.”

“Why would anyone even want to steal fairy dust?” asked Lydia, absently.

“To get high,” said Stiles.“Duh.It’s a euphoric hallucinogen!”

“Yeah, that’s just what the people of this town need,” said Lydia under her breath.“Okay, so what can we do?”

“We go get more,” said Deaton.“I know of a couple of places to find it.I have the rowan leaves and supplies in my pack, we can make the sachets on site and then Scott can run them out to the hunters.But we have to be really quick.Who knows what they’ll do, now that one of them has been caught.”

He turned around clearly meaning for the four of them to follow him, but Scott hesitated.“Are you sure this is safe,” he called.“Maybe Lydia should stay here.”

Deaton shook his head.“I need anyone who can cast a spell helping me make those bags.I trust you to watch us.And, Scott, even though it’s been a while, I still know how to to fight, if it comes down to it.”

Reluctantly Scott acquiesced. He gave a brief nod and then they went into motion.

Wasting no more time,and leaving their lunch trays abandoned on the table,they set out out through the lacrosse field and into the woods behind the school. Stiles noted absently, as they passed one of the ubiquitous white phones, that they hadn’t checked in the way they should. Deaton had a walkie-talkie strapped to his belt, so it probably wasn’t necessary. Deaton lead the way at a such a brisk pace that Stiles didn’t have time to get distracted by all the new territory they were covering.

Once past the initial shaggy part of the forest, the undergrowth lightened up considerably and they spent about fifteen minutes walking through huge oak and fir.If there was a trail at all it was buried under a mound of dead leaves and needles. The others trekked on with confidence but Stiles felt a little worried that if, by some reason he got separated from the group it would be really easy to getreally lost.He was excruciatingly aware of the literal thousands of acres of woods around him.

Scott slowed a bit to match his pace.“Don’t worry, I don’t hear anyone near us.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” said Stiles.

“Then what?”

“What if we get lost.Does Deaton even know where he’s going?We don’t have flashlights or water bottles or anything.”

Scott rolled his eyes.“I’m a wolf, dude.It’s not possible for you to get lost with me around.I can just follow our scent trail back.Besides, I know where he’s taking us.It’s not that much farther up ahead.”

Stiles perked up with interest.“What’s not that far up ahead?Are we going to see fairies?”

“Not fairies, fairy rings,” said Scott.“You get dust from the soil that grows in the center of fairy rings.”

“Oh.You mean those mushroom circles?” Stiles felt seriously let down.He’d been hoping to see actual fairies.Werewolves existed, and mages existed, so why not fairies? “So fairy dust just means dirt.We get to play with more dirt.We get to miss a dragnet _and_ lunch to collect dirt.”

“Don’t tell me magic’s not cool anymore,” said Scott, grinning.

Stiles held out for a second, then nodded. “Okay, yeah, magic is still _way_ cool.”

“There you go,” said Scott.As he said so they stepped into a clearing about thirty yards long by fifty wide.The grass was green and knee high and there were no signs that Stiles could see of a fairy circle.That is until they got most of the way in.Then suddenly the grass about appeared stunted enclosed by a narrow ring of bare earth about four feet in diameter.

“What?” said Stiles as Danny and Lydia took the spades that Deaton gave them and immediately knelt to dig inside the circle.“What? This is it?There aren’t even any mushrooms.”

“What we think of the mushroom is just the flower,” said Deaton.“What we want is the mycilium portion, strands of fungus that grows beneath the grass roots.”He handed Stiles a spade.“Discard the first inch of soil, gather up the deeper soil and place it in the pails.”He pulled a bunch of nesting plastic pails, like the kind little kids use to make sand castles, out of a green army surplus backpack.All but Scott took one and a small metal spade and settled around the edge of the ring.“Scott, keep an ear out.”

With effort Stiles pushed his spade through the tough topsoil. He pried up a clump of grass, pulling it with his off hand until it came free in a fibrous tangle of roots.He tossed it to the side and then dug into the looser soil beneath. With exaggerated care, he ladled his first spade worth of soil into the bucket. Two more scoops filled the small plastic container to the top.Well, that was easy.

“Okay,” said Deaton.“Before we can make an antidote, we need to actually make fairy dust.Consecrate the dirt.Just like Harris has been teaching you”

Cautiously, Stiles raised his hand.“Um… I haven’t actually learned how to ‘consecrate’ anything.Actually I haven’t learned how to do anything but draw a line of barkdust around someone and make it glow.”

Deaton smiled his most fatherly smile at Stiles.“That’s what I mean by consecrate.Use your soul, your will, to impart energy into the soil.The ingredients are different, so the results will be different, but the main process, the forging and connecting, are the same.Merge your will with the nature of the fungus, let its natural power come to the fore.Purify it’s essence.”

Stiles looked dubiously at the pail full of dirt.He could see pebbles and decomposed leaves and tiny hair like strands that he assumed was mushroom.How the heck was he supposed to purify this mess?To his side, Lydia said, “Done.” 

Okay, he could do this.He could.Stiles held the bucket in both hands and thought at it. _Light up.Light up.Be consecrated and all that shit._

Nothing happened. 

To his other side, Danny said, “Done!”

Stiles dropped the bucket into his lap stared daggers at Danny.“Oh come on, you can’t even make an ash circle and you can consecrate fairy dust?”

Danny shrugged, sheepishly.“I don’t want to be put on ash duty.”

Stiles mouth dropped open.“You mean you, I, you …”

“A man’s gotta grab time for himself where he can,” said Danny, leaning back and looking smug.

Okay, he could do this.If Danny and Lydia could, he could.He had natural talent.That’s what everyone said.Gonna do this, gonna do this now, now.Any moment.Stiles gritted his teeth and squinted.

“Don’t over think it,” said Deaton.“Just let the energy flow. Naturally.Go on, keep working at it.But… relax.”

Did Stiles ever mention to these people how much he loathed that word “relax”?He _was_ relaxed.Any more relaxed and he’d be comatose.No relax didn’t mean relax, it meant “stop thinking.” And Stiles couldn’t stop thinking.That’s not how his mind worked!And besides how was he supposed to accomplish anything if he didn’t think about it.Fucking magic.Shouldn’t exist.

But it did.Stiles sighed and took a deep cleansing breath.Relax.Natural. He thought he felt a prickle start in his belly and… oh yuck, was that a bug!He nearly dropped the container as a plump pale bug crawled out of the earth and over the lip of the container towards his hand.“Shoo,” he told it, knocking it off with a quick swipe of his hand.“Shoo.”

He looked up quickly to see if the others had noticed his less than dignified behavior. Scott was about ten feet away staring fixedly at the woods.Lydia and Danny were paying attention to Deaton, who was setting up a camp stove.He was kneeling on the ground near the center of the bare circle, with a ziplock bag of dried leaves and a thin aluminum pan resting on the ground next to his foot.

“Now we need to process it.Lydia, Danny, use the mesh to sift the rocks and debris from the dirt.Make one big pile on this sheet.Try not to breathe the stuff,but if you get a little high, that’s okay.It’s pretty much inevitable when working with this stuff.” As they set about following his orders, Deaton reached into his pack and began to bring out some black cloth pouches the size of teabags.“We have thirty six hunters and wolves in the field, we need to make as many of these as quickly as we can. I’ll burn the leaves, then as soon as I mix the ash in, you can start filling the pouches.Let’s see how fast we can get this done.”

Stiles looked down at his sad container of dirt and wondered if he should be still working on consecrating it or if he should go on sifting duty, since obviously his ease at making an ash line turned out to be a total fluke.

“Deaton!” said Scott suddenly.“Someone’s coming! More than one!”

Deaton stood up, bushing his hands on his knees, and looked at Scott.“How many?”

“Two,”he turned his head.“Wait I think I hear three.Four — no five!”

“Ours?”

Scott shook his head, meaning he didn’t know.“They are all around us.One’s coming faster now.That way.”As he pointed, Scott stepped backwards until he was right next to where Stiles was sitting on the ground. Stiles gasped as claws emerged suddenly from Scott’s off hand and dangled inches away from Stiles’s eyes.

He scrambled backwards to a safe distance, then, remembering his container of fairy dirt, he reached forwards and snagged it. Even though it was just a mess and not consecrated or anything, he put a big old handful of it into his jacket pocket and zipped it shut.You never knew.

They waited in breathless anticipation for what seemed like forever, but was probably less than a full minute.Then a stocky figure appeared from the cover of the woods.He was no one Stiles had ever seen before, and Stiles had, by this time, seen everyone in Beacon Hills. The guy was young — a teen.Probably not much older than himself.But he was all buffed up like one of those weight lifter dudes.Steroids.Definitely steroids.Lots of them.As he approached, the tension notched up to unbearable.

And then, suddenly Danny stepped forward.  

“Ethan!” he cried out.

The stranger suddenly broke into a smile.“Danny!”

Danny ran forward to close the distance but stopped with a good 15 feet between them.“My man!What are you doing here?”

“Danny, stay back!” barked Scott.He was fully wolfed out and his voice had taken a deep resonant sound.The hair on his face partially obscured the altered bone structure, but Stiles let out a little “meep” of fear anyway.He’d rarely seen Scott in werewolf form, and never when he looked quite so homicidal before. _Oh shit, oh shit_.

Danny quickly stepped between Ethan and Scott.“Stop!” he cried out. “I know him.He’s a friend.”

“He’s a werewolf,” said Scott, not standing down.“A rival pack.”

Danny shook his head, disbelieving.“No, he can’t be.He was my best friend back in New York.We went to Horace Mann together.”He lowered his voice. “He’s the guy I ran away to meet.”

“Danny,” said Deaton.“Step back.Scott’s right, he’s a werewolf.”

Danny turned to look at Ethan,“No.You’re mistaken.”

Ethan shrugged one huge shoulder.“Yeah, Danny, I kind of am a werewolf.”

“What?When?” asked Danny.“Because you sure weren’t one last I saw you.You didn’t even believe in werewolves.You thought I was making shit up.”

“Well, it was pretty hard to not believe when there there’s this hairy guy bursting through your door and throwing you across the room.”Ethan rubbed his shoulder.“Derek got me pretty good.I was lucky I didn’t bleed out on the floor while your ‘friends’ shoved that egg in your face and hauled you out of our hotel.Did you even notice me lying there, dying?”

Danny looked stricken. “No… I don’t remember. Oh god, I don’t remember how they got me back, it was a blur.”

Scott was standing a bit straighter. He looked slightly less murderous, but no less firm.“Listen, Ethan, or whatever your name is.I’m sorry you were hurt, but you need to go now. This is our territory, Danny belongs with us, and we will defend ourselves.”

“Ethan, I’m sorry.I’m sorry for all of this.But Scott’s right: you have to go.I don’t want any more of your blood on my hands.”Danny stepped back and began to walk back to where Stiles was sitting.

“Not going without you, Danny,” said Ethan, firmly.“Don’t fight me, babe.Come back.”But Danny just shook his head and continued retreating until he was back with the rest of them.  

Ethan looked at Scott who was back in a defensive crouch now that Danny wasn’t between them.“And I suggest you back off.Danny was mine first.”

“But he’s our pack now,” said Scott.“And I’ve been a werewolf for a lot longer than you.”He slowly closed the distance between them, flexing his claws as he went.

“Are you sure you want to challenge me, _beta_ ,” asked Ethan.And his eyes flashed bright glowing red.

Stiles _felt_ everyone around him jump.Even Scott suddenly backed up. “An alpha?So soon? Did you kill the one who made you?”

“Of course, he didn’t,” came a smug voice with an English accent, from right behind them.“But you are hardly the first pack me and mine have taken on.” Stiles spun around and saw a sandy-brown haired man, about forty, with a thin, wirey build.He waded through the knee high grass as if it were bare floor.His eyes were piercing and there seemed a calculation behind his smile.Stiles watched the newcomer glance over each of them as if judging their strengths.

It was Deaton this time who gasped with recognition.“Deucalion.You’re back!”

“Hello again, Alan,” he said warmly.“Actually, I’ve been back quite a while, but you never remember any of my visits.”He flexed his hand and claws sprang up sharp. Deaton stepped backwards from the threat, a hand on the back of his neck as if rubbing a painful spot.“We just met in your quaint little clinic this morning, arranging this outing.I must say, you have followed your orders splendidly.And there she is, your precious seer, delivered as promised.”

“No!” said Deaton.“No.You can’t have her.I won’t let you.”

Lydia looked back and forth between the two. “Shit,” she said. Then suddenly she grabbed the sheet of plastic they’d been sifting fairy dust onto and tossed it at Deucalion.A cloud of dust wafted around him, and a couple of wetter bits clung to his shirt, he waved his hand to ward the stuff away from his eyes.Lydia didn’t wait, she dashed as fast as she could away while drifting fairy dust inspired confusion reigned over the clearing.

It took Stiles a beat to realize what she’d done and decide that it was probably a really good idea to get the hell away while the getting was good.He took off in a random direction, since suddenly nothing looked remotely familiar anymore and he had no clue whatsoever which way they’d come.But he didn’t have a chance to worry about getting lost because he hadn’t even made it out of the clearing before he felt arms wrapped around him.In a daze he thought it was Scott who was hugging him, chest to chest and lifting him bodily off the ground.But no, Scott wasn’t this tall or broad.Then everything was just too many colors and shapes for Stiles to cope with and he momentarily stopped struggling.

Stiles felt himself flung up in the air and thrown over the dude’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.Now he was disoriented, stoned, and mostly upside down, and he couldn’t even think of what he was supposed to be doing to get out of this situation.Well before he’d done anything but flop, he was thrown down into the grass again, which despite being long and springy, still didn’t make much of a cushion to his his butt or shoulder.“Ow!” he cried out.

“Well,” came Deucalion’s voice.“You’d hardly think we would send you to dig up fairy dust without a supply of the antidote on hand.”Stiles lolled his head over to the side and saw the British guy waving a sachet hanging by a string from around his neck.“Enough fighting, it’s hopeless.You can’t possibly beat five alphas.Give in.”

Despite Deucalion’s words, Stiles could hear was a scuffles going down all around him.The grass was trampled flat all over. Danny was lying face down on the ground in the middle of the fairy ring.Stiles could see a pair of handcuffs glinting from his wrists as he wiggled drunkenly to try get himself up into a sitting position.Not too far away Ethan was holding a screaming, kicking Lydia over his shoulder. He saw Scott struggling with a female alpha whose eyes glowed crimson and her claws dripped with blood, but he was giving as good as he got, and for a moment it looked like he might even best her. But then the biggest werewolf joined in the fight, grabbing Scott from behind.And now it was two on one and Scott was hopelessly pinned down.He struggled, his sharp teeth flashing, eyes glowing amber.And then he settled, knowing it was futile.

“You are a strong one, aren’t you, pup.It’s no wonder you are Gerard’s favorite.”Deucalion approached the two who were holding Scott.“Bind him.Gag him.We’ll take him as well.”

“Leave him alone,” said Deaton, where he knelt on the ground, Ethan’s hand on his shoulder.Wait, Ethan? _Two Ethans?_. Stiles did a double take, but yes, there was Ethan pressing Lydia face down to the grass and putting a pair of cuffs on her wrists.He shook his head but the second Ethan didn’t go away. Fairy dust?  

Stiles rubbed his eyes to try to clear away the rainbow sparkles that were making everything so hard to see.No wait, they wore different shirts.Identical twins.Duh.

“Please, Duke,” Deaton pleaded.“We were friends once.You need to stop this madness and let us go.”

Deucalion raised his eyebrows.“You are one to talk about madness, considering the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”He stood looking down at Deaton for a moment, then petted his head like a dog.“There, there.I’m not going to abandon you forever, druid.When I have that egg, I promise I’ll let you free.You can go back to guarding what is left of the Hale pack.Minus certain members.”He looked over at Scott again with a grin.Scott growled around a cloth gag.

“Gerard will never give you the egg,” warned Deaton,“No matter how many hostages you take.”

“Of course, he won’t.Not without a fight.The hostages are just to make sure that he _does_ fight.”

“Then let the kids go.They are just teenagers.If you need a hostage, I’ll do.”

Deucalion laughed.“I’m afraid you overvalue yourself, Alan,” he said.“Gerard’s sucked you just about dry.The old you would have fought me off tooth and nail.This new, neutered you barely even tickles when I go in and mess with your memories.”He tapped Deaton lightly on the cheek.“Which I’m afraid I’ll have to do again.I can’t have them thinking that you are cooperating with me, and I definitely don’t want them knowing that we are a pack of alphas.Give them the message that we came for Danny, and got the seer and the pup as a little extra for our efforts.”

Stiles let out a breath of relief.Looked like they were leaving him here with Deaton.Which was heaps better than being a hostage.Not that he was a coward, but he’d just had his ass handed to him in three seconds flat.If they’d wanted to impress him that he was completely outclassed, they’d done so in spades.Besides, this way his father wouldn’t worry so much.He felt terrible about Scott and Lydia. Maybe Danny would be alright with his old boyfriend to protect him.He looked over to where Danny was still struggling to sit up with his arms bound behind his back and the real Ethan looking happily down at him.Or maybe not.

Unfortunately Deucalion’s hench-alphas (really, were they all alphas?How did that even work?) hadn’t forgotten about Stiles.“What about this one,” asked the hugest wolf.

Deucalion turned around to look at Stiles.“Hmm.Might as well take him along.”

Scott’s eyes suddenly widened, he yelled behind the gag.Deaton also made a move to put himself between the two of them.“You’ve got enough hostages.Leave Stiles.He’s not part of this fight. He’s totally untrained.”

“Then we’ll definitely bring him along.Tell Gerard that if he doesn’t meet us alone in the old abandoned distillery in Redding at midnight tomorrow night, that he’ll find this… Stiles is it?That he’ll find Stiles’s body hanging somewhere in his woods by dawn.”

In that instant, Stiles could see it going down: Gerard would never meet Deucalion alone.If he even agreed to meet at all. These guys were going to kill him and there was nothing that Scott or Deaton or anyone else could do to save him.He looked at Scott and saw that he’d realized it as well.

Screw this! Even though he knew it was entirely fruitless, Stiles still got up and made a mad dash past the big werewolf.He used every trick that he’d ever used against the wolves when playing lacrosse.He feinted, he rolled, he scrambled, he serpentined. Even though he was still half-drunk on fairy dust and the woods were sparkling and popping with odd colors, he didn’t give in to it.  

This time he had fifteen seconds of freedom before he got his ass handed to him. 

He felt the weight of a building come crashing down on his back, pushing him face down in the leaves and twigs.While he fought to get his breath, his wrists were grabbed and yanked behind him.He felt the hard, cold press of a pair of cuffs around his wrists.Then suddenly he was being patted on the head a little roughly.“Behave, pup,” said the big dude.

“Why.You are going to kill me anyway,” wheezed Stiles. Fatalism made him feel brave. “Gerard’s never going to just walk into your obvious trap.”

He heard a chuckle.“Don’t make assumptions.”  

Stiles was yanked back up to his feet and then marched past where Deucalion hovered over kneeling Deaton.Stiles thought he saw Deucalion shove his claws into the back of Deaton’s head, then pull the man forward against his thigh.He hoped that that was hallucination.Deaton’s muffled cry of pain seemed very real though.But then he and the others were shoved on, past the camp stove and their equipment through the field and out into the woods again.

They walked in single file, a werewolf to each, through the woods. No one spoke.Any attempt to slow or deviate from the path was met with the sting of claws digging in his shoulders.Stiles kept his ears pricked up, hoping to hear the sound of the dragnet and rescue on its way, but he didn’t have much hope for it.Deucalion and his group seemed to be awfully well prepared.Stiles had no idea where mile marker three was, but he bet that it was far, far away from here.

Abruptly the came upon a tiny rutted access road, with a dirty looking van parked right in the middle of it.The female werewolf loped ahead and unlocked the van, throwing the doors open with a clang.Stiles jerked at the sight of a metal cage welded inside the back and saw the chances of rescue grow even dimmer.  

There they were lifted one by one into the van and shoved unceremoniously into the cage. Then the cage was padlocked and then the doors of the van shut.It was tight inside, they were forced to sit knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, with their backs against the metal grating. It was very dim inside, the only light came from a twelve by twelve inch window that connected to the front compartment.Scott chewed at his gag, but it appeared to kevlar or something similarly tough.The manacles on his wrists were like handcuffs on steroids, two inches thick of black metal, chained together with inch wide links.It clanked and clanged against the steel cage every time Scott squirmed.

“Well,” said Lydia.“This wasn’t the way I’d hoped to leave Beacon Hills.”

Danny groaned and rested his head on his knees.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles was never sure if they’d drugged him, or if it was some delayed effect of the fairy dust, but he fell asleep somewhere on the bumpy ride down to Redding.  He woke with a headache and a groggy scream of terror when the van doors were flung noisily open and the four of them were dragged deep into the interior of an abandoned building.   

The distillery, thought Stiles.  Though it didn’t really look much like a distillery.   It looked more like an office building.    

That feeling that they weren’t any place where rescue could hope to happen increased when they were dragged down the stairs to a basement that looked terrifyingly like a torture dungeon.  No windows.  The bare floor and walls were embedded with heavy metal rings.  Chains hung down.  There was a section of metal fencing bolted to one of the walls with wires snaking around the bottom.  

 They were going to be tortured and killed and this was all so pointless.  Panic reached its peak and Stiles flailed against his captor.  “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” said Stiles. “Oh shit, no!  Please, don’t hurt us.”

“No one’s hurting you, Stiles,” said the huge werewolf, gently.  “You’ll be fine.”

“Ennis!” snapped Deucaleon.  “Don’t get too attached.  We’ve got a mission here.  Get them all tied down.”

Stiles was pulled to one of the metal brackets embedded in the floor.  His ankle was shackled with a cuff which lead to about 2 feet of chain and then attached to the bracket.  Ennis released his arms.  Stiles rubbed his wrists and rotated his shoulders, trying to get rid of the stiffness.   When he looked around, Danny and Lydia had been given similar treatment.  They were each positioned far enough away that they couldn’t reach each other, but with enough play in the chains that they could make themselves as comfortable as they could on the bare concrete floor.

Scott wasn’t as lucky.  It seemed the fencing was for him.  He fought like a mad thing, but with three of them on him, they had him manacled spread eagled against the metal in under a minute.  The only casualty was that more of Scott’s already torn clothes were shredded off him until he was wearing nothing from the waist up and not much more from thigh down.  Stiles could see deep scratches from the earlier fight criss crossing his belly, chest, thighs and arms.  They looked horribly painful, but Scott seemed to be ignoring them.

The moment he was secure, one of them flipped a switch and Scott jerked with pain.  He made a moan behind his gag.  Then he fell limp against the metal.

“You’re killing him!” Stiles cried out, pulling at the end of his chain.  He was too far to reach anything but he had to try.  All he ended up doing was hopping ineffectually on one foot and nearly face planting into the cement floor.   “Stop it!  You are killing him!”

“He’s not being killed,” said Deucalion.  “Only inconvenienced.   The current is very minor, hardly more than a tingle.  But it’s enough to stop him from being able to change.  Scott lolled his head as the alpha came up to him.  His eyes looked up into Deucalion’s with obvious hate.  Deucalion just smiled and reached behind his neck to free the gag.

“This room is quite sound proof,” he said.  “So if you like, you can scream.  Get it out of your system.”

“What do you want with us?” asked Scott, his voice low and angry.

“Different things.  Different things.   Ethan wants Danny, and after all his hard work and loyalty, I’m more than happy to allow the favor.”  Danny sucked in a deep breath but said nothing.   Ethan smiled at him.  

“A seer is a rare commodity,” Deucalion continued, circling around to look at Lydia where she sat, glaring hatefully up from the ground.  “If she will cooperate and demonstrate her loyalty, I will keep her as part of my pack.”

“Drop dead,” said Lydia.

“Or, I may just sell her off to Deaton’s people.   They will pay handsomely for a person with the true sight.”  He smiled beatifically at her, then reached a hand to casually muss her reddish hair.  She pulled away from his touch.  “Don’t worry, they will treat you with utmost honor and respect.  And I can’t imagine you were that happy to be imprisoned under the thumb of a durach, doing his bidding, like it or no.  Who’s to say, you may even be grateful to us for having taken you.”

“Unlikely,” said Lydia, but her chin came down and she looked away.

He turned to Scott.  “And you.”   Scott looked up again wearily.  “Well, I think things might get a bit rough for you. But that’s the way deprograming is.  You’re tough.  Once your mind is free of that egg, your true potential will come out.   I see in you the makings of a great wolf.  Even Gerard can’t kill your spirit completely.  I would like you to join our pack.”

“Never,” said Scott.

Deucalion smiled.  “We’ll see.  I’ve been planning for years for this moment.  I’m nothing if not patient.”  He then turned around and strolled towards the stairs.  “Ethan, take first watch.”

Stiles realized that he was going to leave and spoke up.  “What about me?”  

Deucalion looked down at him as if surprised he was even there.   “What about you?”  He said it with such dismissive flippancy that Stiles’s stomach fell.

But something like steel inside him fell with with the fear.  He was not giving up.  Not while his Dad needed him.  Not while he still breathed.  Not while he could do anything to change his fate.  This guy claimed he was saving Scott and Lydia, so maybe he had some sense of warped nobility deep under the pallid cold exterior.  Stiles could work with that.

 “Oh, that’s right,” he said, scathingly, as Deucalion turned to leave.   “I’m cannon fodder.  Just warning shot to show Gerard you mean serious business.  Day after tomorrow, you are going to string me up, like I’m nothing.  You don’t even see me as a person.”

Deucalion turned fully at regarded him again, eyes sharper.  Yeah, look at me, Stiles thought.  See _me_.  Not a pawn.  A person.  _Me._

“But you want to know something?” Stiles went on.  “I’m _not_ nothing.  I’m something.  I’m these guys’ friend.   And when you haul me off to kill me, they aren’t going to see you as the people who rescued them from Gerard’s cult.  They are going to see you as the person who _killed their friend_.  Ethan, do you think that Danny will ever look at you again without seeing the guy who murdered his friend?   And you, Duke, whatever your name is.  When you ransom Lydia off to Deaton’s people, do you really think she’ll just be grateful.  Or do you think she’ll organize them to come back and get revenge for me.  Because, I know Lydia, and she can totally do revenge.”

“I can,” agreed Lydia, baring her teeth.

“And Scott.  Scott and I are close.  He will _never_ accept an alpha who killed his best friend,” continued Stiles.

Deucalion crossed his arms in front of his chest.  “I can remove their memories of you.”

“It won’t work,” barked Scott.  And … oh wow, his eyes were glowing a kind of orange.  It was faint and only lasted for a moment.  Then it was gone again.  Scott fought to keep from slouching.  “It won’t work, I’ll find a way to remember him.  I love him.  I don’t think you can erase love not even with your mind control.”

Deucalion breathed in.  Then let it go.  “Very well.  In the interests of keeping the peace, I won’t string you up day after tomorrow.  Happy?”

Stiles let his breath go as well.  “Good!  Good.  Right.  What _are_ you going to do with me, then.”

“Well, since it isn’t what I’d planned, I shall have to think about it.  Kali, Ennis, Aiden, with me.”

* * *

Once the other werewolves were gone Ethan came over to Danny.  “Hey, are you okay?”  

 Danny scrambled away from him, until he’d reached the limit of his chain.   He shook when Ethan attempted to touch his shoulder.  The look on his face was of horror and betrayal.

Ethan was dismayed.  “Hey, babe, don’t do that.  It’s just me.  You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“I’ve been kidnapped and I’m chained to a floor in a basement, Ethan. I’m not fine. I’m nowhere near fine.”  Danny turned as much away from Ethan as he could, backed in the corner the way he was.

Ethan crouched down.  “Yeah, I know, this sucks.  But you are in with some really bad people and you’ve been brainwashed.  We can’t trust you not to escape and give us away.  Trust me, there’s nothing I want more than to fly off to Kauai right now with you.   But we have to be patient.  When Gerard is dead and Duke has the egg, then it’ll be you and me again.  Just like spring break.  Remember.”

“It can’t be like spring break.  You’re a werewolf now.  An Alpha.  Don’t you have a pack to take care of or something?”

 Ethan shook his head.  “Duke doesn’t keep betas.  Not for long anyway.  They either become alphas or they feed the pack.”

“Ew!  You guys are cannibals?”  said Lydia.

“Not literally,” said Ethan giving her a scathing stare over his shoulder.  “We kill them and absorb their power back into the pack. It makes us stronger.  We are the most powerful werewolves you’ll ever meet.”

Stiles spoke this time, “That’s really not that much better.”

“Shut up, you,” said Ethan, glaring at him. “You are lucky we aren’t going to kill you.  One of us could bite you tonight, then kill you tomorrow.  Give us a nice little boost when it comes to fighting Gerard.”

“And what are you going to do with me?” asked Danny.  “I’m not an alpha.  I’m not even a beta.  I’m just a human.”

“You are my human,” said Ethan. “So long as you obey me and keep out of Duke’s way, you’ll do fine.”

“Like your pet,” said Danny.

“Like my lover,” said Ethan, crawling forward to pin Danny against the wall.  

His mouth closed on Danny’s and for a moment it seemed like Danny was kissing back but then he turned his head.  “Stop.”

“Come on, babe,” murmured Ethan. “I went through so much to get you back.  I did all of this for you.  You think it was easy?  That bitch, Derek, nearly killed me.  It was pure luck that Aiden arrived with Duke when he did.  An hour later and I’d have been dead.  And even after Duke bit us, we weren’t out of the woods.  Some people don’t survive the bite.   I could have died.  Or Aiden could have.    

“And then training.   Duke is brutal, he doesn’t hold back.  He can’t.  We fight other packs.  And even being an Alpha in Duke’s pack doesn’t mean we can relax.   We had an alpha who was getting too dangerous, too uncontrollable.  Aiden and I had to kill him, just the two of us, to prove our worth to Duke.  

“So you see, you see,” he leaned forward and tried to kiss Danny again, but Danny turned his head and held a hand in the way.  Aiden backed off until he was standing.   “You see, I really do love you, Danny.  I’ll do anything to get you back.  Anything.”  He grabbed Danny’s chin.  “Please, babe.”

Danny pushed him away.

“He said, ‘no!’” snapped Scott.  “No means no.”

“Please Ethan,” said Danny.  “Don’t.  Not now.”

Ethan backed away hastily.  “I didn’t mean,” he said.  Then shook his head as if clearing his thoughts.  “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.  I’m sorry.  I know I’m a lot stronger than I used to be and none of this is fair to you.  I guess I got impatient but it takes time, doesn’t it.  For you to trust me again.”

Danny nodded stiffly.

“Wait a second,” said Stiles as something suddenly occurred to him.  “Danny said that you didn’t know about werewolves.  How was it that you and your brother knew Duke?”

Ethan shrugged. “When we were trying to get Danny away last time, the three of us looked for help online.  Anyone who knew anything about Gerard Argent and what his resources were.  Duke showed up and started talking to us.  He said he could help us protect ourselves.  I didn’t entirely believe him, he was talking about magic eggs and druids, but Danny believed in what he said.  So we agreed to meet at that hotel room.  Except before Duke showed up, Derek did.” 

Stiles thought he caught a glimmer of a strategy.  If Ethan was only in this for Danny, he might be willing turn against his pack now that he had what he wanted.  

“You know you don’t owe him.  Duke.  He saved your life, but he put you through hell, too.  You don’t have to be in his pack if you don’t want to be.”

Ethan rocked back on his heels, laughing.  “And what?    Join Gerard’s pack?  Or whoever is pretending to be alpha down there — Peter?  I don’t think so.  Duke’s hard, but he also knows what he’s doing.  It’s a nasty world out there, I’ve seen it first hand.  I’d rather be on Duke’s team than off it.”

Stiles slumped.  He’d tried.

* * *

After Ethan came Aiden, who was a lot like Ethan except that his interest in Danny was more brotherly and less gropey.  He took a shine to Lydia, who, seeing a sucker, played it up for all she was worth.  Stiles would have been alarmed if it hadn’t been for three months of experience with Lydia.  By the end of Aiden’s shift they’d all of them, including Scott, had a bathroom break and a convenience store sandwich, thanks to Lydia.

Stiles had rather hoped that Scott would use his time free of the electro rack to break away and get help, but Scott was a model of good behavior.  Even holding his hands up to be attached to the rack after he was done with his meal.  When Stiles gave him a look, Scott responded with just the slightest shake of his head.  Now apparently wasn’t the time.

“I wish I could let you down to sleep,” said Aiden as he flipped the switch back on, and Scott hissed with pain.  “But Duke says that we need to wear you down, so you can break free of your conditioning.”

“I haven’t been conditioned,” said Scott as earnestly as he could.  “I swear it.”

Stiles winced.   Even he knew that Scott was brainwashed within a inch of his life.

“Yeah, I know you think that,” said Aiden. “But it will get better.  You’ll see the truth soon.”

It was during Aiden’s shift that they found out how they had gotten captured.   Apparently his pack had been making frequent trips, some as far as into the town itself, during the dead of night when the everyone was locked down for curfew.   They’d covered their tracks using fairy dust and used Deucalion’s skill at both implanting and removing memories to interrogate various people they’d caught.

“Wait, implanting memories?” asked Stiles.  “Werewolves can _do_ that?”

“Some can.”

“Can you?” asked Danny, looking worried.

“No.”

Aiden merrily went on.   The alpha pack had brainstormed for months about various ways to take down Gerard.  But he was too well protected in his Beacon Hills nest.    They were greatly outnumbered, not just by wolves and hunters, but also by just ordinary humans who understood werewolf vulnerabilities.  In addition, Deaton and his fellow mages had put wards around many of the buildings that reduced the werewolves ability to transform.  And all of them were unshakably loyal to Gerard, thanks to that egg.  

Eventually the alpha pack decided the most likely way to succeed would be to lure Gerard and his egg out of his home turf and into one rigged in their own favor.   

The man that Peter’s people caught at mile three was nothing more than a disposable lure.   He was a homeless man they’d kidnapped from the streets of Redding two days ago.   Deucalion had filled him with enough false memories to convince the Hunters that he was a part of the pack and to feed Gerard with red herrings about the size of the pack and where they hung out.  Aiden thought it quite funny that Peter and Chris were combing entirely the wrong part of town for them.

Kidnapping Scott and Danny and Lydia had simply been the final culmination of months of determined preparation.

“If you think they are going to sniff you guys out,” said Aiden smugly.  “Guess again.   They haven’t even come within five miles of here.”

* * *

Not long after that it was Ennis’s turn.    Ennis seemed to have taken a shine to Stiles.  Stiles wasn’t sure why.  Maybe it was the whole captor/captive thing.  Like that old movie he’d watched once where the terrorist became obsessed with his victim’s girlfriend.  What was it?  Crying Game.   Stiles remembered the sound of his dad smacking his own face when the girlfriend lifted her miniskirt and surprise! Penis!  And maybe it wasn’t that appropriate a movie for an eleven year old, but, whatever.  The point was that this was kind of like Crying Game only with less surprise penises.  And that was a good thing.  Because when you are abducted, any little bit of non-penis oriented sympathy you can wring out of your captors made the odds of your surviving go up.

Ennis sat down next to Stiles and talked.  “You remind me of one of my betas.”

“I hope that’s a good thing?”   Stiles wasn’t sure.  Didn’t Ennis “eat” all his betas?

“Yeah.  I miss him.   Miss them.”  He seemed to look into the distance.  “I like this pack.  It’s a strong pack.  But sometimes it’s too quiet.  I miss the chatter of my own pack.”

Yeah… not exactly Shakespearian eloquence.  But it gave Stiles a clue.  “I can talk, you know.  If you like.  It’s really one of my better talents.”

Ennis nodded.

And so Stiles ended up talking to Ennis about growing up in Kansas, hamburger, his mom’s death, his worries about his dad.  And Ennis talked about his family.  It had been a large pack, nearly thirty in all, and he’d been a devoted alpha to every one of them.  Until Gerard had set upon them, killing them off one by one.  Breaking the “hunter’s code.”

“What’s the hunters code?” asked Stiles.

“They are only supposed to hunt us if we start hurting humans.  We never did.  Didn’t stop Gerard.  He killed us anyway.  Including the boy you remind me of.”  He sighed.  “This was ten years ago.  I tried to sue for peace.  To stop the madness.   There were twenty in my pack at that point.  We were still strong.  We figured we’d draw a truce or make a stand.  Gerard agreed to meet us in an abandoned factory.  What we didn’t know is that he’d rigged the place with wolfsbane gas.   As soon as we showed up,  he put on a mask and set it off.  Only the strongest of my pack escaped.”  

Ennis didn’t speak for a few seconds, and Stiles found himself looking for _something_ to say.  But really he couldn’t.  Jesus.  If this was true, Gerard was on par with the worst serial killers Stiles had ever read of.  Stiles had a hard time reconciling this with the Gerard who lead their wellness sessions every morning.

   “We met Deucalion a few months later and found out that Gerard had done the same to his pack,” Innis continued.  “He’d even blinded Duke with arrows.  But Duke had found a way to get strong enough to fight back.   He taught me.   And then we chased him.  We chased his family.  Me and Duke and Kali and Joseph and Anna.  We chased him from one side of the country to another, picking off his hunters, getting packs to join us.  Using them to feed us power and make us stronger.”

“Joseph and Anna,” said Scott.  “Where are they?”

“They were weak.  They are gone.  But we have Aiden and Ethan, so it doesn’t matter.  I’ll get my revenge, soon.  And no egg and no Beacon Hills will stop me.  Peter’s a fool if he think he can go against us.  We’ll rip his pack to pieces.  Maybe, if you are really good, we’ll let you do the honors of shredding Peter and gaining your alpha.”

Scott struggled against the rack.  “No. The pack is innocent.  They had _nothing_ to do with the slaughter of your pack.  You have a beef with Gerard, you keep it with Gerard.  Leave my pack be.”

Ennis shook his head.  “You think that they’ll stand by and let us kill Gerard?   I don’t think so.  This is a tough world and we have to make tough sacrifices.  Your pack is doomed.  You should feel honored that Duke thinks you’re salvageable.”

After that, no one felt much like talking.

* * *

Kali took the next watch. 

 It was deep in the night, but between the chance of imminent death and the discomfort of a cold concrete floor, Stiles couldn’t do more than fitfully doze.  The lights were all turned out but one at the top of the stairs.  The darkness only made all the little incidental noises seem louder.   He could hear Kali’s insanely long toenails scraping, scraping, scraping against the smooth concrete as she paced from one end of the basement to the other.  More intermittently, and thus impossible to tune out, came Scott’s groans and hisses of discomfort as the electricity and his position took its toll on him.  Stiles felt awful for wanting Scott to just shut up, but every time one of those moans escaped, he felt his flesh crawl in horror.

“For God’s sake,” said Stiles at last.  “Let him down.  Chain him up but let him lie down.”

“Shut up,” said Kali.  Stiles saw her shadow approaching quickly,  her leg flashed up.

The next thing he knew there was a line of agony across his stomach.  He immediately folded around the pain, belatedly trying to protect himself, but she was already pacing away.  Scritch.  Scritch.  Scritch.

Stiles bit his lip and ran a tentative hand across the wound.   It stung, but was only skin deep.  Even at that it bled in cool drips down his belly.  Weird, he’d always thought that blood would feel warm, but it didn’t.  It felt like he’d been splashed with water.  He pressed his hands against it, willing it to clot up and heal.   God only knew what kind of dirt was on those awful toenails.  Talons.  If he survived long enough he would probably get some kind of nasty infection.

“Don’t worry about me, Stiles,” whispered Scott.  “I’m fine.  Just try to stay cool.   The others will find us soon.”

“Okay,” said Stiles, tightly, afraid that if he breathed too deep he’d open the cut and make it worse.

“Both of you shut up,” said Kali.  “Or I might forget my orders and shut you up forever.”

Stiles and Scott said nothing more.   But Stiles couldn’t sleep right away.  Not with the sharp pain every time he breathed or moved.  Not with Lydia crying softly somewhere to his left, and Danny shifting about rattling his chain.   Stiles was probably not helping to keep them calm, with his tight gasps and squirms trying to get comfortable.   Having the Goddess of Death stalking circles around your chained bloody body did not make sleeping any easier, either.

But somehow, at some point, Stiles finally managed it.  When he did, he dreamed a confusing mish-mash that partially involved trying to find his father in the woods, and it seemed like he’d been bitten.  He’d collapsed to the ground and Scott had arrived and started burying him alive, because he wasn’t ready to be werewolf and he was going to die.  Stiles remembered begging Scott to wait until he was dead, but Scott just started sobbing and continued to pour dirt on him, and Stiles couldn’t move to unbury himself.  _I wonder what kind of magic the dirt from my grave will make_.


	11. Chapter 11

 

He woke when the lights came blazing back on.  

“Wake up!” said Ethan (or possibly Aiden, Stiles couldn’t tell the two apart).“Bathroom break.Misbehave and you can wet yourself.”

Stiles groaned and pulled himself up.He looked down for the first time at the damage Kali had done to him. It looked a lot worse than it was.Horrific even.His shirt and windbreaker were torn open and brown congealed blood crusted the fabric to his body like some brittle form of glue.More gruesomely, all around his body were bloody hand prints and smears from where he’d rolled around during the night.Well, one thing was for sure, when the forensics team came to investigate this place, they’d have plenty of evidence to look at.  

If a forensics team ever did.If anyone ever called the police to report his abduction.Or his corpse. 

“Oh, Jesus,” said Danny, staring at Stiles.“Are you okay?”

“Been better,” muttered Stiles.He used his hand to help hold the cut on his belly closed as he finished slowly shifting to a sitting position.Then he looked down at his hand and realized that it was absolutely filthy, not just covered in blood and cement dust, but underneath he still had a layer of freaking mushroom dirt from digging up that fairy dust stuff the day before. Yep.That was a tetanus shot for sure.Assuming they were rescued or Duke’s pack cared enough to get him to a doctor.“Great.”

“Listen,” said Lydia, sitting with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.“What I said yesterday about you, that you weren’t worth anything.I didn’t mean it.That’s not true.You are worth a lot.”

Stiles smiled at her.“Thanks.Mind telling him that?”He pointed to the twin who was kneeling by Danny and talking softly to him.Probably Ethan.“Maybe I could have some bandages and antibiotics.Please?”

Ethan looked over his shoulder.“We don’t have those things.We don’t need them.”There was no missing the haughty superiority in his tone.

“Ah well,”said Stiles, slouching.What he wouldn’t give to have a cell phone in his pocket right now.All he had was a handful of fairy ring dirt which, thankfully, hadn’t been spilled out by Kali’s toenails or else his wound would be _really_ be a toxic mess about now.

“Ethan,” said Danny, giving their captor a look of raw desperation.“Please.”

Ethan’s face squinched up with annoyance.“I’ll see what I can do.”

Sitting hurt, so Stiles lay back down, moving as slowly as he had getting up.Even though it was just a scratch, it still stung like holy hell when it was pulled.Once he was settled, he let go of his stomach, and his hand moved down to the pocket full of dirt which dangled like a squishy weight from his torn windbreaker.  

It wasn’t fairy dust at this point, just the raw, unconsecrated, unsifted ingredients to make it.But there wasn’t anything from stopping him from consecrating it now. None of their captors were wearing that sachet cure around their necks anymore.Conceivably, Stiles could purify it, then throw the dust inEthan’s face and then…

… And then he’d still be chained to the floor with a dazed and hallucinating werewolf who clearly hated his guts. Yeah, that didn’t sound like such a good plan.

But still fairy dust was better than no fairy dust.And who knew, maybe there would be a time when it would do him some good.Maybe when they took him off to hang him in the woods he could use it and get away then. Yeah.That sounded plausible.

First he had to actually manage make magic work. Or, wait, maybe not! Maybe he could just throw his jacket at Lydia and let an actual mage do it while Ethan was away… and — nope,too late.

The door opened again, Ethan was back.He threw Stiles a look that said _that’s the last favor you are getting out of me_. “Ennis going to get you some bandages.You aren’t dying are you?”

“No,” said Stiles.And Ethan was already turning away before the syllable was half out of his mouth.Yeah.Get it.Despite Lydia’s assertion, Stiles was feeling pretty unwanted.

“Good.I won’t have to bite you then.”

That’s a relief.Stiles wasn’t too keen on “feeding” Ethan’s pack.

“I’m allowed to let you use the bathroom,” said Ethan to all of them.“But that privilege will end the moment _any_ of you abuses it.One wrong move and you are all back here until tonight with nothing.Behave yourself and you’ll get water soon and later we’ll get you something to eat.”Ethan then went to Danny and unlocked his ankle.Danny stood up and gave Stiles a long worried glance as he passed him.Stiles gave him a nod, to try and reassure him that it really wasn’t as bad as it looked.

As soon as Ethan was out of the room, Stiles unzipped the pocket of his windbreaker and put his hand into the nasty cloddy dirt.He hoped there weren’t any more of those little worm things hiding in there.If there were they didn’t bother him.Meanwhile Stiles concentrated, tried to feel his soul connect to the dirt, find its essence and purify it.Magic worked.Magic was real.He’d seen magic.He felt it. He could do it.  

Nothing.

Ethan was back. Stiles froze, hand still in pocket.Damn that was quick.Ethan didn’t even glance at him, just chained Danny back down and went over to Lydia.

As soon as Ethan was gone again, Stiles tried to do it again.This time he tried to follow Deaton’s instructions and relax more, not force it. Stiles closed his eyes and kind of zenned the power down his arm and into the dirt.That seemed almost to work.  

Yeah, yeah. I can do this.I have _natural_ talent.Everyone says so.  

And then he got it.Like falling into a ditch, suddenly the power raced down his arm, through his fingers, and into the dirt.

Whoa, that was bright! Stiles eyes flew open as light burst right through the fabric of his jacket and filled the room. Jesus fuck, magic!Subtle much?Thank God, Ethan wasn’t there to see.

“What was that?” asked Danny, alarmed.

On his rack, Scott moaned a “What?”

“Sorry, sorry! Just me,” said Stiles. “Consecrating.I have some fairy dust in my pocket.Now.”

“Awesome,” said Danny.

“Not yet,” said Scott.His voice sounded like it was coming out of a grave.Rough and deep, thick tongued.

“Yeah, not yet,” agreed Stiles.He kicked the chain a bit to show that he knew it would be pointless.

“My cue,” said Scott, nodding slowly, as if he barely had the energy for it.

A few seconds later Ethan and Lydia were back.Stiles hastily zipped the pocket back up again. Now his hand was really was filthy.Like a seven layer dip of filth.Dirt, then dust, then blood, then dust, then dirt again.He wiped it as best he could on his jeans.What he wouldn’t give for clean water and some soap.  

Which brought up another thought. _If rowen ash and fairy dust makes an antidote, what will mage blood and fairy dust do?_

After chaining Lydia down, Ethan walked pointedly right past Stiles and turned off the power to Scott’s rack.But Stiles forgot the petty slight almost as soon as he felt it.It was clear that Scott was in terrible shape. When his arms were freed, he just fell bonelessly to the floor and lay there.As Stiles watched the bruises on Scotts wrists melted away, but clearly werewolf powers could do nothing for sheer exhaustion after hours of mild electrocution in a stress position.

Ethan gave him a tap to the side with his shoe.“I’m not waiting forever.”

Scott made an attempt to rise, only to fall back on his stomach again.

“Going, going…”

“Ethan!” said Danny.“Don’t be a dick.”

Ethan glanced over at him and then sighed.“He’s faking, Danny. He’s a wolf.He’s a lot tougher than this.”

Stiles felt a moment of hope go through him.If Scott was faking, then maybe he had a plan. Stiles put his hand next to his pocket, ready to do his part when Scott gave the cue. But no cue came. Scott just made a second attempt to get up, crawling, then finally gaining his feet.He was so shaky he nearly toppled back over again.

“Ethan, he’s not faking,” insisted Danny.“He’s only a beta.You guys are too rough with him.”

Ethan looked consternated.“Shit.” But then he grabbed Scott by the waist and pulled one of Scott’s arms over his shoulder.“Okay, lets get this done.”He then half dragged half supported Scott up the stairs.

After Scott was brought back and recuffed to his fence, Ethan came over to Stiles.Stiles let out a breath of relief.He was half afraid that Ethan might snub him for some reason, and he really, really needed to go.Ethan uncuffed Stiles's ankle and Stiles was just amazed at how wonderful it felt to have that weight gone.It almost made him feel hopeful.The simple pleasures in life: not being chained to the floor. But he was careful to keep his enthusiasm down, lest Ethan misinterpret it as being a signal that he was about to abuse his freedom.Ethan used his hands to put Stiles in front and direct him up the stairs.

Once on the ground floor they walked through the dusty deserted hallway and out into weedy back parking lot where a port-o-potty sat.A quick scan of the area showed that they were at the edge of an industrial park.There were a couple more buildings through the chain link fence surrounding the lot, mostly of the windowless warehouse variety, and a whole lot of weedy nothing for what looked like a mile.Stiles considered throwing the dust in Ethan’s face now and making a break for it, he got so far as to unzip his jacket pocket, but then he saw Ennis all the way across the lot holding a paper bag in one hand and walking their way.If Stiles ran now, Ennis would catch him before he could go far.

Stiles lifted his hand away from his pocket and waved, then stepped up to the port-o-potty.

“Leave the door open,” Ethan warned.

“Or what?” Stiles asked.“I mean, seriously, you think that I can claw my way out the back or hide in the toilet? What can I possibly do in there, other than the obvious?”

Ethan bowed to reason, thank god.“Okay.But be quick.”

Stiles didn’t wait for further permission to use the john.When he got back out he said, “See, your paranoia is unfounded.Listen, I know the only reason I’m still breathing is your good will, and, trust me, I want to live.So I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize my chances.You don’t have to worry about me.”

“We aren’t going to kill you,” said Ethan uncomfortably.“You aren’t any good to us dead.”

“Unless my body is needed to make Gerard think that you might kill his precious seer, or you need to juice up on a beta before going into battle.”

“Are you trying to convince me to kill you?” Ethan raised a brow.

“No!” squawked Stiles.“No.Not at all.What I’m saying is that I’m on your side.”

“Oh, really,” said Ethan, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head.

“Yes, really.You think I want to live in Beacon Hills? I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get out of that place for months.I’d have run away but since Danny escaped they have that place locked up tight. My car is impounded in some ‘barn’ I’m not allowed near.My cell phone disappeared the first night. I can barely even leave my house without an escort.You are a werewolf, you check if I’m telling you the truth.”

Ethan raised his head, “Yeah.It’s true.Gerard’s really got some crazy power trip going out there.”

“Gerard is… whew… creepy,” agreed Stiles.“And all the times I’ve had to kiss that egg thing of his.Yuck.So believe me when I say, if he were to die tonight, I wouldn’t shed a tear.In fact, I’d throw a party.You guys want to kill him, I’m totally down with that.”

Ethan nodded.“Yeah.That’s what Danny said.”

“Yeah,exactly! Me and Danny, we are totally on the same wavelength.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.“Danny’s mine.”

“And he is,” said Stiles hastily.Yeah, not provoking the scary alpha’s jealousy would be a good thing.“No designs on Danny, dude.Cross my heart.I’ve got other — Scott. Scott is mine,” _except for Allison, which these guys probably know all about, thanks to Deaton_.“Well, sort of, in that we have this thing together that’s a … sex thing.”Stiles made a face.

Thankfully Ethan understood his gabber.“Maybe if Scott accepts Duke’s offer, he’ll let Scott keep you as a sex thing.”

That wasn’t exactly what Stiles wanted to hear but it was at least better than all their other plans for him.

Across the parking lot,Ennis was walking their way.From the look of concern on his face, he was clearly wondering what the hold up was. Ethan noticed as well. “Back inside Stiles. Before I have to punish everyone for your mouth.”

Stiles hastily went back inside. Ennis quickly caught up with them in the hall.“You two okay,” he asked.

“Fine,” said Ethan.

Stiles saw the brown bag in Ennis’ hand.“Is that bandages?Because I’d love some bandages.And some water,” he said waving his filthy hands.The port-o-potty’s container of hand sanitizer was completely dry.Apparently werewolf immunity meant never having to worry about hygiene.

“I have bandages,” said Ennis.

They took him back down the stairs into the basement.Ethan chained Stiles back to his bracket on the floor while Ennis worked to tear the bandages out of their individual waxed paper wrappers.It became painfully clear that the werewolf had never dealt with Band-Aids before.Stiles felt envious of the instant healing and wished that Gerard had followed through on his first idea of making Stiles a wolf.On the other hand, if he were a wolf, he’d be up on that rack next to Scott, and that looked really painful.

Ennis tore another Band-Aid in half. “Fuck this.”He threw the box at Stiles.“Tend yourself.”

“Ennis!Ethan!” said a voice from the stairs. They turned and saw Deucalion descending the steps.His feet made no noise.“Go check on the site.”

The two immediately got up and left. They might all be alphas, Stiles thought, but it was clear that Duke was _the_ alpha in the pack. Deucalion watched his pack leave then turned and looked at Stiles.His eyes lingered on his bloody clothes, his mud stained jeans, the floor, then back to Stiles's eyes.  

He took a deep breath.Then as if coming to a decision he walked slowly towards Stiles. It was a walk that said “Your fate has been decided.”

Stiles sat up straighter, feeling more nervous with every passing moment.Please be good news.

“I hear you talking with my pack,” said Duke at last.“Trying to convince them that you are on our side.Trying to make them think of you as part of their pack.Trying to appeal to their mercy. I get what you are trying to do.” He crossed his hands in front of his chest.“And I even admire you a bit for it, so I’ll give you a warning instead of just slitting your throat. Stop interfering.”

Terror felt like ice in Stiles’s stomach, hard and cold.He saw dots begin to flash in the periphery of his vision and wondered if he was about to pass out. “I … I don’t know… how could I interfere with them.I’m chained down.”

“Do you know how to be submissive, Stiles?”

“Yes?”Stiles tried to pour as much sincerity as he could into the word.

“You want to live.You submit to my orders.Understand?”

Okay, that was a bright spot of hope.The sick feeling of faintness ebbed down as he clung to the thought.Deucalion wouldn’t be offering Stiles a chance to live, if he was just going to kill him, would he?What would be the point in that?

“Okay.”

“Stop talking to Ennis.You are making him weak and I need him strong for the fight tonight.Reminding him of all the things he used to have makes him soft, merciful.I can’t have that.”

Stiles nodded wildly.“Okay.”

“Stop fomenting rebellion with Ethan and Aiden. They are my pack.They will _always_ be my pack.”

Stiles nodded again. 

Deucalion pointed to himself with his thumb.“I’m the one who decides who lives and who dies. The one you should appeal to is _me_ , not them.”

Stiles looked down at his knees in what he hoped would be proper submissive attitude.Wolves took eye contact as a challenge, that much he knew. _Anything you want, you’re the boss,_ he wanted to say, but didn’t dare.He didn’t trust it not to come off as mouthy.  

 The next thing Stiles knew a hand was on his chin pulling his face up to meet Deucalion’s eyes. “I’m _done_ with you trying to manipulate my pack.Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Stiles.He trembled.This is where he lived or died.Right now.In this moment.He had to say the right thing. Do the right thing.But what?It seemed that all his attempts at trying to save himself were just pissing Deucalion off.But if he did nothing, if he let himself become invisible again, then nothing would stop Deucalion from killing him without a thought.What was the right way out of this?

Without bidding it, tears filled his eyes and began to flow down his cheeks.He tried to stop them, and hoped that Deucalion wouldn’t consider it another form of manipulation.Duke just stared thoughtfully a moment and then used his thumb to wipe Stiles's cheek.  

“You asked what I was going to do with you. I’ve thought of two things.First, if you can keep your mouth shut — not a word — until tonight, then after I’ve killed Gerard and taken his egg, I’ll let you go.I’ll take away your memories of Beacon Hills and my pack and all of that, but then you just go live your life where ever you wish.Alive and free.”

Stiles felt like he should be excited about it.It was, after all, what he wanted:to leave Beacon Hills with his dad, and forget the whole sordid affair.But the prospect felt chilling and hollow. He’d be free, but Lydia, Danny, and Scott would still be prisoners of the pack.His father wouldn’t have the egg to keep him from drowning in his grief. With all their money gone, it would be tough picking up the pieces somewhere else. Worst, knowing himself, the four month hole in his memories would gnaw at him and he’d likely end up doing something stupid.

He’d be free, but at the cost of all his friends, his home, his magic, his peace of mind.And… he despite what he’d said to Ethan earlier, he didn’t want that anymore.He didn’t want any of that.

Duke let the idea sink in, while he petted Stiles's hair gently.Then his hand froze at the nape of Stiles's neck. 

“But if you cause me any trouble at all, Stiles, then —”Stiles hissed as he felt Deucalion’s claws pierced his skin and drive into the back of his skull like daggers.“— This will happen.”  

And like that, Stiles was somewhere else completely.

 

* * *

 

Stiles looked around.  The basement was gone.  The chains were gone.  Duke and his pack were gone — nothing more than memories from months before.  

He was in a hotel room in London.  The view out the window was gorgeous:  Sunset through the lightest of winter fog making the city look hazy and picture book quaint.   The four story buildings around him were all beginning to light up against the night.  It was like something out of a movie. Inside, was even more so.   The suite was large and sumptuous, just this side of gaudy.   Genuine antique furniture.  Rich, rust colored carpet.  The large bed was covered with a gold and crimson duvet.  The kitchenette behind him was filled with treats, wines, chocolates, cheese and fruit.  The room cost £2,000 a night.

This didn’t look like punishment at all.  But it was.   The room was a prison, it’s boundaries invisible, but unbreakable.  Stiles knew.  He’d tried so many times to break them, to go beyond that door while his mistress slept.  Walk down the hall.  Escape.  But he could go no further than the threshold before he felt the tether tighten and his will grew weak.

Instead he waited for his mistress to wake and rise from the trunk where she slept the day.   Monique.  A vampire.   Stiles had thought werewolves were possessive, dangerous monsters.  They were nothing compared to Monique.

She rose the moment the sun disappeared below the horizon, throwing open her trunk with a bang.  Stiles watched her stretch out her thin limbs and roll her long neck.  Her hair shined, glossy and beautiful and cut in a trendy bob.  Stiles’s first impression of the night was always how breathtakingly beautiful she was.   Only as the night progressed did her perfectly flat and even complexion seem freakish and wrong.   Her hands, her neck, her eyes all seemed airbrushed.  No capillaries to mottle the skin.  No veins.  No arteries.  No pulse.  She looked more like a doll than human, no matter how much make up she used.   

When she didn’t make him love her, he was repulsed.

The first thing she did, as she did every evening, was order room service.   Usually it was something lavish — the chef’s special, kobe steak, linguine with white truffles and seared ahi.  Stiles had never eaten lobster before being traded off to be Monique’s manservant.  Now, he ate it about once a week.   It honestly wasn’t his favorite, but it was expensive, so Monique liked it.  When it came she greeted the bell boy with a toothy smile and then sent him off without a tip.   

Monique never tipped.  She never paid for anything, not the food, not the room, not her clothes.   Just smiled and took whatever she wanted.  An equal opportunity exploiter.

She smiled at Stiles and he obediently sat and ate the stolen lavish dinner that he didn’t even like that much.  Monique watched, fingers laced below her chin, like he was some particularly fascinating species of monkey.  As he finished his entree, she rose and came over to his side of the table.  He froze, waited, then felt the delicate touch of her fingers on his shoulder.   A moment later her teeth pierced his neck and she pulled the memory of the meal from his mind along with his blood, enjoying his pleasure vicariously.

She didn’t take much blood.  Only a swallow.   Just enough to maintain her connection to his mind and make him want whatever she wanted.  What she wanted was to go dancing.  

So Stiles became her perfect date, ever attentive, never jealous, even when she quickly left him at the edge of the dance floor to hunt out someone new.  Someone young and fresh and maybe a bit desperate, who she would convince to take her (and Stiles) home with him.   Someone who wouldn’t have anyone waiting.   No witnesses.  As soon as they arrived at the victim’s flat, Stiles took up station by the window.  He stared out at traffic, scanning for anything that might interrupt her fun, ignoring the sounds coming from across the room.  

Hours later, when she was done, Stiles helped her arrange the naked body in the bathtub, and left him to bleed out what little blood he had left,  razor propped in his limp hand.   Then she and Stiles walked down the street, hand in hand, looking for a cab to take them home.

Stiles hated it.  Particularly the way he could do nothing but watch, night after night while Monique stole one life after another.  He hated even more the way he panicked at the thought of anything that might endanger her.   The only thing he could do was feel bad about her victims.  Someone should.   Monique certainly never did.

By the time they reached the hotel it was nearly dawn, but Monique was still jazzed up on stolen life and there was no one to take it out on but Stiles.   She pulled him to the bed and undressed him.  He made love to her the way she liked.   When he was done, she bit him again and stole that memory as well.

Stiles was more than ready for her to go back into her trunk for the day and for him to have a bit of his autonomy back, even if it was only the freedom to pace the hotel room or sleep alone in the large bed.  He missed his dad, Scott and Lydia, even Jackson.  He was so lonely for Beacon Hills he ached.  He wanted to hope that tomorrow would be better, but the bitter truth was that this purgatory would go on, night after lonely repetitive night, until he finally grew too old for Monique.   And when that happened, he’d be just another suicide in a random hotel bathtub. 

As morning warmed the city around him,  Stiles wished again that he had taken the first option he was given, and just done what Deucalion had asked, instead of trying to be smart and losing it all.

 

* * *

 

Pain made Stiles hiss and he grabbed the back of his neck as Deucalion let him go.   For a moment he had no idea where he was.  Months of fantom memories turned misty.  Sucking in a shocked breath, he stared around him, surprised to see the plain cement walls and chains.  The florescent lights.  Scott still tied to wall.   Lydia and Danny sitting on the ground, looking anxious.  

Oh thank, god.  He was back! He still had a chance!   The hotel room, Monique, hadn’t happened yet.   No.  Nix that, the hotel and Monique _weren’t real_.   It had all been a mind game.  The only person who was messing with his brain was Deucalion.  They met eyes and Stiles saw a look of smug satisfaction.   “Not a word,” said Deucalion, touching his lips.  “Understand?”

Stiles nodded.  Not a word.  He didn’t know if Monique existed, but if she did, Stiles never wanted to meet her.   Instead he watched as Deucalion walked slowly back up the steps leaving the four of them alone again.

“Are you alright?” Scott whispered.  “What did he do to you?”

Stiles said nothing.

“Stiles?” asked Danny.  “Talk to us.”

“Jesus fuck,” muttered Lydia.

Stiles just shook his head.   It had been so fucking real.   So real.  It had felt like hours.   It had felt like _months._     And the things he’d experienced felt like real experiences.   He felt so … _violated_ with them.   The way she’d touched him.  The way he’d been so helpless to stop her.

  Stiles rubbed the back of his head and then looked at the fresh blood on his dirty hand. He _had_ been violated.   Any possible sympathy Stiles might have been harboring for Deucalion’s cause was gone.  

He hadn’t thought _anything_ could make him go Team Gerard, but there he was, rooting for that nasty old man to come and kick Deucalion’s nastier butt.    At least when Gerard fucked your mind, he made it feel good.  And thinking of that, Deucalion could not get a hold of that egg.  God help the world if he had that kind of power.  For all of Gerard’s warped sense of right and wrong, at least he had a moral compass.  Deucalion clearly had nothing more than his own ambitions.  No loyalty or care for anyone else, not even his own pack.

Stiles hung his head.    Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse — is mom dying, his father suicidal, his new town a cult, being abducted, threatened, cut, and now there was this.  So much detail, the taste, the smell, the feel.  The retro pop music at the dance club.  Surely Deucalion couldn’t have made it up out of whole cloth.  He must have stolen the memory from someone.  Which meant that Monique really was out there someplace, and there were things that even monsters considered monsters.

“Stiles,” said Danny.  “I’ll talk to Ethan.  They can’t treat you like this.”

Stiles just shook his head again, firmly and waved his hands to nix the notion.   _Stay out of this Danny._  

Reluctantly Danny nodded and buried his head in his arms and said nothing more.   Not long after that, Lydia swore softly to herself and then turned so that she had her back to them all.  Scott said nothing at all.  He hung by his arms, his body occasionally shivering with shock.  Stiles wasn’t even sure he was conscious.

    Stiles reached down and felt the fairy dust in his pocket.  At least he still had this.

 


End file.
